Chapter 5 - The Reign of Blackwood
The silence that followed Luca’s declaration lasted for three long seconds before the ballroom descended into utter, chaotic madness.
Reporters screamed questions at the top of their lungs, pushing against the security barriers.
"Mr. Moretti! When was the ceremony?!"
"Mrs. Moretti! Did you sign a prenuptial agreement?!"
"Judge Vance! Is your daughter in police custody?!"
Luca didn't answer a single question. He simply wrapped his heavy suit jacket around Naomi’s bare shoulders, shielding her from the flashing lights, and guided her back down the stage steps toward the main exit.
Judge Vance tried to step into their path, his face twisted in desperate rage. "You can't do this, Moretti! You can't just claim a maid in front of the entire city! I'll destroy you! I'll have the governor—"
Luca stopped. He didn't unholster a gun. He simply leaned in close to Judge Vance's ear, speaking in a whisper that only Vance and Naomi could hear.
"Your daughter is currently sitting in my cellar, Arthur," Luca said, his eyes devoid of any human mercy. "By tomorrow morning, every deed you signed with the syndicate will be transferred to my wife’s personal trust. If you ever breathe Naomi’s name again, I won't just ruin your career... I will erase your lineage."
Judge Vance’s eyes went completely wide with terror. His knees buckled slightly, and he stumbled back against the podium, unable to utter another word as Luca guided Naomi out into the cool night air.
The heavy armored sedans were waiting at the curb, their doors held open by Marco.
Luca helped Naomi into the leather interior of the rear cabin, stepping in beside her as the doors slammed shut, cutting off the noise of the media circus outside.
The convoy pulled away from the curb, flanked by six motorcycle escorts as they roared through the downtown streets toward Blackwood Ridge.
Inside the quiet, darkened interior of the limousine, Naomi sat back against the leather seat, staring down at the massive black diamond glowing on her left hand in the passing streetlights.
Her chest rose and fell in rapid hitches as the adrenaline of the last three hours finally began to fade.
"You didn't have to do that," Naomi whispered, her voice low in the quiet cabin. "You could have just used the USB drive to arrest Vance. You didn't have to tell the whole city we were married."
Luca turned in his seat to look at her. In the dim amber light of the car, his sharp features looked carved from dark marble.
"In my world, Naomi, a witness is vulnerable," Luca said softly, reaching out his large hand to gently trace the line of her jawline with the tip of his finger. "A witness can be intimidated, bought, or killed."
He leaned in closer, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, possessive warmth that set her skin on fire.
"But a Moretti bride?" Luca murmured, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. "A Moretti bride is protected by three thousand armed men, five syndicate families, and a husband who would burn this city to ash before letting anyone hurt her."
Naomi looked into his eyes, searching for any sign of calculation or deceit. She found none. Only absolute, unwavering protection.
"And what about us?" Naomi asked softly. "Is this just a legal shield, Luca?"
Luca smiled—a real, genuine smile that softened the dangerous edge of his jaw. He reached down and took her hand, weaving his fingers firmly through hers, pressing the heavy black diamond ring against her skin.
"My mother chose you five months ago because she knew you had a heart of gold," Luca whispered, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss against her knuckles. "I chose you tonight because I realized I can't live in a world where you don't belong to me."
Twenty minutes later, the convoy pulled through the iron gates of the Moretti estate.
The grand manor on Blackwood Ridge was fully illuminated, glowing like a fortress against the dark night sky.
When the car stopped at the front entrance, Marco opened the door.
Luca stepped out first, then reached back to lift Naomi effortlessly into his arms, carrying her up the wide marble steps as if she weighed nothing at all.
Inside the grand parlor, the heavy velvet drapes were pulled back, allowing the moonlight to spill across the polished hardwood floors.
Sitting on the piano bench in the center of the room was Isabella Moretti.
She was dressed in a clean silk robe, her face peaceful, a warm cup of tea resting beside her on the Steinway. When she saw Luca and Naomi step through the doorway holding hands, a soft, beautiful smile broke across her face.
Isabella reached out her frail hand and dropped her finger onto the keys.
THUM-THUM-THUM.
Three low, rich, harmonious chords rang out through the grand parlor—a beautiful, sweeping melody of welcome, safety, and triumph.
Naomi stepped over to the piano, leaning down to wrap her arms around Isabella’s shoulders, kissing the older woman’s cheek.
Luca walked over to stand behind them both, placing his broad hands on Naomi’s shoulders, his touch solid, warm, and permanent.
Naomi looked out the tall glass windows toward the glowing city skyline below—a city that had once treated her as invisible, but now knew her name.
May you like
She was no longer the quiet nurse who lived in the shadows.
She was the mistress of Blackwood Ridge, protected by the most feared man in the state, and her voice—like the music that had brought them together—would never be silenced again.
