Chapter 9 - The New Ledger
One year later.
The quiet evening air inside the penthouse suite on the Toronto waterfront was filled with the soft sound of rain tapping gently against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
I sat at the large mahogany desk in the library, wearing a soft cream knit sweater and comfortable linen pants. In front of me lay three sleek monitors displaying the global quarterly financial statements for the Corvin Group—now recognized as one of the cleanest, most profitable logistics and investment conglomerates in North America.
Under my direction as CFO, the company’s revenue had increased by forty percent, every former ghost account had been purged, and the legacy of my father’s name was now associated with the largest charitable restitution foundation in Atlantic Canada.
A pair of warm, strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, resting gently against my stomach.
Yusef leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the side of my neck, his stubble tickling my skin.
"Working late, Mrs. Corvin?" he murmured into my ear.
I leaned my head back against his shoulder, smiling as I covered his hands with mine. "Just reviewing the Q3 Gibraltar statements. Someone left a forty-cent rounding variance in the transport logistics sub-folder."
Yusef let out a low laugh, resting his chin on my shoulder. "Fire them immediately."
"I did," I grinned, turning my head to kiss his jawline. "I replaced them with a very efficient automated auditing algorithm."
Yusef reached over my shoulder, gently closing the lid of the black laptop, darkening the screens.
"Hey," I protested playfully. "I was reading that."
"The ledgers can wait until Monday," Yusef said, sliding his hands under my arms and lifting me out of the desk chair with effortless ease, bringing me up into his arms.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, looking down into those striking hazel eyes that still made my heart race every single day.
"And what are we doing tonight, Mr. Corvin?" I asked softly.
Yusef carried me across the dimly lit library toward the soft velvet couch near the glass window, where a warm fire crackled in the fireplace.
"Tonight," Yusef said, setting me down gently beside him, wrapping his warm cashmere throw around both of us, "we sit here, we watch the rain, and we enjoy the silence."
I rested my head against his broad chest, listening to the steady, comforting beat of his heart. I looked down at my hands—my left hand resting over his heart, the platinum ring sparkling beneath the amber glow of the fire.
There were no more dark envelopes. No more hidden threats. No more debts owed to ghosts in Halifax or ruthless men in Toronto.
May you like
The broke, terrified girl who had sat on a cold bathroom floor with a stapler had finally found her home—not in a ledger or a bank account, but in the unyielding arms of the man who had looked past her scars, paid her ghosts, and given her a future brighter than the stars.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep, peaceful breath, and let the warmth of the fire wash over us as the rain fell gently outside.
