Chapter 8 - The Choice of the King
The question hung in the bright, sunlit hallway, heavy with emotional truth.
I looked at the woman who had transformed my cold marble tomb into a sanctuary of life. I looked at the little boy who had learned to walk on my Persian rugs.
"I spent twenty-two years believing my life was meant to be lived in this chair, serving a dark empire out of guilt," I said softly, reaching up to gently wipe a tear from Claire’s cheek. "I thought I had to stay in Chicago forever to protect my father's memory."
"And now?" Claire whispered, holding her breath.
"Now I realize my father wouldn't want me to spend the rest of my life as a ghost in a suit," I answered, my voice steady and full of conviction. "Yesterday, I initiated the transition of my legitimate businesses into a private holding board managed by Dominic and my legal team. The illicit enforcement sectors are being dissolved or passed to the Commission."
Dominic nodded firmly. "I can run the Chicago operations from the background, Boss. You've earned your peace."
Claire stared at me in disbelief. "You're... you're stepping down?"
"I am retiring, Claire," I smiled, feeling a freedom so pure it felt like taking my very first breath. "I don't want to be Don Moretti anymore. I just want to be Adrian. The man who sits by the window, listening to you read, watching our son play in the grass."
Claire let out a breathless laugh, tears spilling over her eyelashes as she threw her arms around my shoulders, pressing her forehead against mine.
"Our son?" she whispered, her heart beating wildly against mine.
May you like
"If you'll have me," I murmured, pressing my lips to hers in a deep, passionate kiss that sealed our future forever. "I want to be his father, Claire. I want to give him everything I lost, and everything you deserve."
Owen, sitting on Claire's lap between us, let out a delighted squeal and smashed his hands against my cheeks, making us both burst into loud, joyful laughter that echoed up into the high marble arches of the mansion.
