Chapter 9 - The Declaration
Three days later, the winter sun broke through the Boston clouds, casting a brilliant golden light over the snow-covered rose gardens of Hanover Street.
The threat was gone. Vincent Rossini’s faction had been dismantled, Julian Ashford was serving a twenty-year sentence in maximum security, and the Moretti family’s hold over the city was absolute once again.
In the sunroom overlooking the garden, Belle sat on a velvet sofa, wearing a soft cream cashmere sweater. She was reading a book while watching Micah and Sienna play chess near the fireplace.
The door clicked open, and Dominic stepped inside.
He had removed his suit jacket, wearing a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing the silver archangel tattoo on his forearm.
He walked over to the sofa, sitting beside Belle.
"How are your hands feeling?" Dominic asked gently, taking her right hand into his, his thumb lightly stroking the bandage wrapped around her knuckles.
"They're fine, Dominic," Belle smiled softly, looking up into his dark eyes. "Dr. Thorne said the stitches come out on Tuesday."
Dominic looked at her for a long, quiet moment. The silence between them was no longer heavy with fear, but filled with a deep, profound warmth that had been building since the night he knocked on her basement door.
"Belle," Dominic said, his deep voice carrying a rare, vulnerable tremor. "When I saw you standing in that nursery, fighting for those children... I realized something."
Belle’s heart fluttered. "What did you realize?"
"I thought my heart died three years ago when my wife passed," Dominic murmured, bringing her hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her bandaged knuckles. "I thought my only job left in this world was to protect Sienna and run this city."
He looked directly into her eyes, his gray gaze fierce and true.
"You brought life back into this house, Belle. You saved my daughter, and then you saved me. I don't want you to be a guest here anymore."
Belle’s breath caught in her throat. "Dominic..."
"I want you to stay," Dominic whispered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a simple, breathtaking platinum ring set with a flawless cushion-cut diamond. "I want you to be my wife. I want Micah to be my son."
Tears of joy welled in Belle’s blue eyes, spilling over her lashes. She looked at the ring, then back at the man who had turned from a terrifying urban legend into her protector, her shelter, and her heart.
"Yes," Belle wept softly, leaning forward. "Yes, Dominic. A thousand times yes."
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Dominic pulled her into his arms, kissing her with a deep, lingering passion that erased every lingering memory of cold basement floors, hunger, and fear.
In the corner of the room, Micah and Sienna stopped their chess game, looking over at their parents with bright, beaming smiles, their hands locked together just as they had been on the balcony weeks ago.
