At 8:17 PM, the massive brass doors of the Aster House grand ballroom swung open. The hum of high-society chatter, discreet corporate deal-making, and heavy silver clinking against porcelain died instantly.

By January, Vale Strategic Holdings had undergone a total revolution.

The shadowy reputation of the corporate shell had been replaced by a legitimate global logistics powerhouse. Under Evelyn’s direction as CFO, every illegal revenue stream was systematically dismantled, laundered into clean venture capital, or converted into legitimate infrastructure investments.

The dock captains were paid fair wages; the failing warehouses in Brooklyn were converted into modern community distribution centers; and the corporate atmosphere had transformed from fear to respect.

One Friday afternoon, Evelyn stood in her new executive office on the fortieth floor—one floor below Dominic’s.

Her office was sleek, filled with sunlight, featuring a massive oak desk, modern art, and not a single gray cardigan in sight.

A knock sounded at her door.

Marcus, Dominic’s chief security officer, stepped inside holding a leather folder.

"Vice President Hart," Marcus said respectfully. "The security audit for the new Westchester residence is complete. Your mother moves in on Monday."

"Thank you, Marcus," Evelyn said warmly. "And how is Dominic doing upstairs?"

Marcus offered a rare, small smile. "He’s currently arguing with the auditors about a five-hundred-dollar stationery expense. He told them to take it up with you."

Evelyn laughed softly. "Tell him I'm rejecting the expense unless he brings me tea."

"Right away, ma'am."

As Marcus left, Dominic stepped into her office from his private staircase, holding a silver tray with two steaming porcelain cups of tea.

"Did someone call for tea?" Dominic asked, setting the tray on her desk.

Evelyn walked around her desk, leaning against the edge, looking at him with endless affection. "You're getting very good at taking orders, Mr. Vale."

"Only from my CFO," Dominic rasped, sliding his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.

He looked down at her, his eyes filled with peace—a peace he had never known before she walked into his life.

"The wedding invitations were sent out today," Dominic noted, gently kissing her collarbone. "Three hundred guests. No mob capos. No corrupt politicians."

"And Grant?" Evelyn asked quietly.

"Grant sent a letter from South America yesterday," Dominic said softly. "He’s working as an inventory clerk at our cattle ranch. He said he finally understands why you hated bad math."

Evelyn smiled, resting her head against Dominic’s chest, listening to the steady, comforting beat of his heart.