Chapter 9 - The Coronation of Glass
One month later.
The Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel was filled with six hundred elite guests—politicians, foreign ambassadors, supreme court justices, and the heads of every major criminal syndicate from New York to Los Angeles.
It was the formal engagement gala of Roman Duca and Amelia Carter.
The room was a dazzling wonderland of white orchids, crystal chandeliers, and vintage champagne.
At the top of the grand marble staircase stood Amelia.
She was staggering, breathtakingly magnificent. She wore a custom gown of liquid platinum silk that clung to her curves, trailing behind her like a royal cape. Around her neck sat a three-million-dollar necklace of dark sapphires, and on her finger gleamed the grand gold Duca signet ring alongside a ten-carat flawless diamond engagement ring.
Beside her stood Roman, looking impossibly handsome and formidable in a bespoke black tuxedo, his hand resting possessively around her waist.
Down in the ballroom, the high-society guests who had once looked down on the Carters now bowed their heads in absolute reverence as the couple descended the marble stairs.
Julian Carter’s former business associates stood near the champagne tower, whispering frantically in hushed, terrified tones, bowing respectfully as Amelia passed them.
She did not offer them a smile. She walked like an absolute sovereign who owned the air they breathed.
They reached the head table.
Roman raised his glass of dark bourbon, turning to face the grand room.
The four hundred guests instantly went silent, dropping their conversations to listen to the ruler of the Midwest.
“Two years ago,” Roman announced, his baritone voice echoing through the vaulted ceiling with absolute authority, “certain men believed they could steal from my family, break our treaties, and bury the woman who holds my heart.”
He looked down at Amelia, his hazel eyes flaring with profound, unyielding love and pride.
“They learned that the Duca bloodline does not forget,” Roman continued, his voice rising in power. “And tonight, I present to you the sole controller of the Carter estate, the co-sovereign of the Duca Syndicate, and my future wife—Amelia Carter-Duca.”
The ballroom erupted into thunderous, standing applause!
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Guests raised their glasses high, shouting their allegiance to the new queen of Chicago.
Amelia looked up at Roman, a radiant, triumphant smile illuminating her pale, beautiful face. The ghost who had spent seven hundred and thirty days carving marks on a dark concrete wall was gone forever. Standing in her place was a woman who had conquered her demons, destroyed her captors, and claimed the ultimate throne beside the man who loved her.
