Chapter 7 - The War for the Empire
The destruction of Marco’s betrayal triggered a swift, merciless war that lasted forty-eight hours.
Anthony didn't wait for Julian Moretti to strike again. Supported by his remaining loyal captains, Anthony launched an all-out assault on the Moretti syndicate’s commercial strongholds across Jersey and New York.
For two days, the mansion was a command center. Black SUVs rolled in and out of the gates at all hours. Tactical maps were laid out across the grand dining table, and shortwave radios crackled with updates from enforcers taking back docks, warehouses, and shipping lines.
I stayed by Anthony’s side through every hour. I made sure he ate, I patched up minor cuts on his knuckles, and I kept Luca safe and happy in the upper wing, away from the tension of the war room.
On Saturday evening, the final report came in.
Dominic walked into the study, his suit dusty, a small bandage taped over his temple, but a wide, victorious grin stretched across his face.
“It’s done, Boss,” Dominic reported, setting a heavy leather notebook on the desk. “Julian Moretti surrendered his shipping charters at four o'clock. His family has pulled out of New Jersey completely. The Pellagrini syndicate now controls every commercial port from Maine to Cape May.”
An audible sigh of relief rippled through the enforcers standing in the room.
Anthony stood up from his desk. He didn't celebrate. He didn't pour champagne.
He simply looked at Dominic and said, “Good work. Double the guard on the perimeter. Everyone takes the night off.”
The men bowed respectfully and filed out of the study, leaving Anthony and me alone in the soft, golden light of the desk lamps.
Anthony turned to me. He looked exhausted, lines of fatigue etched into the corners of his eyes, but his golden gaze was clear, triumphant, and focused entirely on me.
He walked around the desk, stopping right in front of me, and took both of my hands into his.
“It’s over, Elena,” he said softly. “The house is safe. My son is safe. And there is no one left in this city who can ever threaten you again.”
“And what about us?” I asked, my heart taking a nervous, joyful leap in my chest.
Anthony reached into his jacket pocket. He didn't pull out a gun or a ledger.
He pulled out a small, worn velvet box lined with satin—a box that bore the family crest of the Pellagrini matriarchs, passed down through three generations.
He flipped the lid open.
Inside rested a breathtaking ring featuring a rare, cushion-cut yellow diamond framed by two brilliant white baguette diamonds that caught the light like starlight.
My breath hitched in my throat. Tears flooded my eyes.
Anthony dropped to one knee on the Persian rug, holding the box up to me, his broad chest rising and falling in steady, powerful breaths.
“I asked you to stay by the pool because I was terrified of losing the girl who saved my boy,” Anthony said, his low voice trembling with a deep, unyielding devotion that shook me to my core. “I kept you here because I realized I couldn't breathe in a room you weren't in. But tonight, Elena Holloway, I’m not ordering you to stay.”
He looked up at me, his golden eyes filled with an ocean of love, worship, and absolute surrender.
“I’m asking you,” Anthony whispered. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? Will you be the queen of this house, the mother of my son, and the keeper of my heart?”
Tears spilled over my cheeks, hot and sweet. I didn't hesitate for a single fraction of a second.
I dropped to my knees in front of him, throwing my arms around his neck, burying my face in his chest as I sobbed out the words that changed our lives forever.
“Yes!” I cried out. “Yes, Anthony! A thousand times yes!”
May you like
Anthony let out a dark, triumphant laugh, wrapping his massive arms around me, pulling me flush against his heart as he slipped the glowing yellow diamond onto my ring finger.
He lifted my face, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that tasted of victory, freedom, and an eternal, unbreakable future.
