Chapter 7 - The First Step
The aftermath of the winter war cemented Salvatore’s absolute rule over the city. The Bratva surrendered completely, absorbing into the Rossi empire, and the city’s underworld fell into an unprecedented, terrified peace.
But for Salvatore, the real battle was still being fought inside his estate, in the physical therapy room.
Three months had passed since the gala. Melanie’s progress had been slow, a grueling, frustrating process of daily exercises that yielded nothing but exhaustion. Yet, she refused to give up. The love she felt for Salvatore, the way he looked at her every single day like she was the center of his universe, gave her an unbreakable will.
It was a quiet Tuesday afternoon. The spring sun was warming the estate, melting the last remnants of winter snow outside. Melanie was practicing in the parallel bars, her hands gripping the polished wood firmly while Elena, her therapist, stood at the end of the track.
Salvatore walked into the room, having just finished a long phone call with his legal team. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a gentle smile.
"Alright, Melanie," Elena said softly. "Don't look at your feet. Look at Salvatore. Focus entirely on him. Think about walking toward the man you love."
Melanie took a deep breath. She looked up, her blue eyes locking onto Salvatore’s dark ones. The sheer intensity of his devotion poured across the room, wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She remembered the warehouse. She remembered the cold concrete. She remembered how he had crouched beside her and whispered, "Who hurt you?"
He had saved her life. He had given her a future. And she wanted, more than anything in the world, to walk into his arms as an equal.
Move, she told her legs, her mind screaming the command with an intensity that made her vision blur. Move for him!
A sharp, electric spark shot down her spine—a sudden, blinding flash of phantom pain that made her gasp. But right after the pain came something miraculous.
Her right foot lifted.
It shifted forward, landing flat on the rubber mat with a soft thud.
Elena gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. "Oh my god... Melanie!"
Salvatore’s entire body went rigid. The cynical, untouchable Mafia Don looked like he had just witnessed the parting of the Red Sea. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in pure, unadulterated shock.
Melanie trembled, tears instantly flooding her eyes. But she didn't stop. She focused on his face again, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She commanded her left leg.
Step.
The left foot dragged forward, aligning with the right one.
She had taken two steps on her own.
"Salvatore..." she sobbed, her hands shaking so violently she lost her grip on the parallel bars.
Before she could fall, Salvatore was there. He moved like lightning, crossing the room in a split second and catching her completely in his massive, powerful embrace. He lifted her off her feet, pulling her tight against his chest as he buried his face in her neck.
His shoulders were shaking. The ruthless king of Chicago was crying tears of pure, unbridled joy.
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"You did it, cara," he whispered, his voice cracking with an emotion so raw and beautiful it broke her heart. "You did it. I knew you could. My beautiful, strong queen."
"I walked to you," Melanie wept, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, kissing his cheeks, his eyes, his lips. "I walked to you because you never let me fall."
