Chapter 8 - Standing Tall
Marco Vane, writhing on the floor in pain from his twisted wrist, reached inside his tuxedo jacket with his left hand, pulling a sleek black 9mm pistol from his shoulder holster.
“You should have died in that crash, Nico!” Marco snarled, aiming the weapon straight at Nico’s chest.
Before Marco could pull the trigger, a gunshot rang out through the hall.
BOOM!
A bullet shattered Marco’s hand, sending the pistol flying across the polished marble floor.
Santino stepped through the side entrance, his heavy service weapon raised, backed by twelve heavily armed Alfieri loyalists who instantly surrounded the head table, cutting off all escape routes.
Marco screamed, clutching his bleeding hand on the floor.
Camille tried to sprint toward the rear service exit, her white lace dress tearing against a chair, but Adeline stepped smoothly into the hallway arch, flanked by two armed federal marshals.
Lead FBI Special Agent Vance stepped into the center of the ballroom, pulling a badge and a stack of federal warrants from his coat.
“Richard Ashcroft, Camille Ashcroft, and Marco Vane,” Agent Vance declared, his voice cutting through the panic. “You are under arrest for attempted murder, conspiracy to commit corporate fraud, federal racketeering, and illegal distribution of controlled neurotoxins.”
Senator Ashcroft sank into his chair, covering his face with his hands as federal agents slapped heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
Camille thrashed violently in the agents' grip as they pulled her arms behind her back, her tiara falling onto the floor and crushing under an officer’s boot.
“Nico! Please!” Camille shrieked, tears smearing her heavy makeup as she was dragged past him. “I was forced into it! My father made me do it! I love you, Nico! Please help me!”
Nico didn't even look at her. He stood beside the head table, completely unbothered by her screams, his eyes cold and distant as she was hauled out of his house forever.
When the room was finally cleared of traitors, federal agents, and terrified guests, only Nico’s loyal men remained.
Nico turned toward the archway.
Adeline stood there, wearing a simple dark blue dress, looking up at him with a proud, breathtaking smile.
Nico walked across the grand marble floor—his stride smooth, powerful, and steady. He stopped right in front of her.
Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off her feet as he kissed her deeply right in the center of the ruined ballroom.
The remaining loyal enforcers, led by Santino, erupted into loud, boisterous cheers and applause, their broad hands clapping together.
May you like
Nico lifted his head, looking down at Adeline with eyes burning with absolute devotion.
“The throne is clean, Adeline,” Nico murmured against her lips. “Now help me rule it.”
