Chapter 8 - The Queen of the City
Three months later.
The restructuring of the Dalton family estate was complete. Mireia had stripped her corrupt parents of their voting rights in the family business, appointing her sister Alyssa as co-director of the newly established Vance-Dalton Foundation, which helped victims of financial abuse and domestic manipulation.
Her parents had been forced into quiet retirement in the countryside, stripped of their high-society clout. Caleb was serving a thirty-year sentence in a maximum-security prison, his name completely scrubbed from the business world.
Mireia was sitting at the massive mahogany desk in her new penthouse office overlooking the city skyline.
The door opened softly.
Darius walked in, carrying a small, velvet box. He was dressed impeccably, as always, but his eyes were filled with a rare softness that only Mireia ever saw.
"You're working late," Darius said, walking behind her chair and resting his hands on her shoulders.
"Just finalizing the port expansion contracts," Mireia smiled, leaning back against his chest. "Your legal team was very impressed with my negotiations."
"They should be. You're far tougher than I am," Darius murmured, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck.
He walked around the desk and placed the small velvet box on top of her papers.
Mireia looked at the box, her heart skipping a beat. "Darius... what is this?"
"Open it," he said softly.
She reached out and flipped the velvet lid open.
Inside rested a ring. But it wasn't delicate, tiny, or subtle like the cheap stone Caleb had given her to fit his idea of what a woman should be.
It was a magnificent, flawless ten-carat black diamond, surrounded by intricate silver leaves—the exact pattern of her grandmother's heirloom crest. Bold, strong, dark, and utterly breathtaking.
"Caleb gave you a ring because he wanted you to fit into his pocket," Darius said, stepping closer, his voice dropping into a deep, fierce whisper. "I am giving you this ring because I want you to rule this city at my side."
He dropped to one knee beside her chair, taking her hand in his large, warm grip.
"Mireia Dalton," Darius said, looking up into her eyes with total devotion. "You saved yourself long before I walked into that restaurant. But if you will have me, I want to spend the rest of my life making sure no one ever dares to make you feel small again. Will you marry me?"
Tears gathered in Mireia's eyes, but she didn't wipe them away. She smiled—a radiant, true smile.
May you like
"Yes," she whispered. "Yes, Darius."
He slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.
