Chapter 9 - THE SILVER TRAY
The flashing red and blue lights of the ambulances illuminated the pier.
Paramedics loaded Dante onto a stretcher, rushing him away. I held Lily tightly in my arms as the police, working directly with the Russo legal team, arrested Carlo and Sofia Marchetti.
Sofia didn’t even fight. She looked empty, completely broken by her own jealousy.
As Carlo was pushed into the back of a squad car, he glared at me through the rain.
I didn’t look away. I stood tall.
The reign of the Marchettis was over.
Three days later.
I walked down the immaculate, quiet hallway of the Russo private hospital.
I was wearing a tailored emerald-green dress—a gift from Dante’s estate manager. My cheap maid’s uniform had been burned in the incinerator.
I pushed open the door to the VIP suite.
Dante was sitting up in the hospital bed. His left shoulder was heavily bandaged, but the color had returned to his face. He was reading a file, looking as intimidating and handsome as ever.
He looked up when I entered.
His dark eyes softened instantly.
“You look beautiful, Emma,” he said quietly.
I walked to his bedside. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got shot by a crazy woman on a pier,” he smirked slightly. “How is Lily?”
“She’s home. With my mother and Uncle Arthur. The foundation paid for a private security detail for them.” I paused. “Thank you, Dante. For everything.”
Dante closed his file.
“You don’t have to thank me. It’s your money, Emma. Arthur transferred your mother’s half of the Russo estate to you yesterday.”
I stared at him. “I don’t want the money.”
“It’s yours. You’re family.”
He reached out with his good arm.
I took his hand, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“There’s something else,” Dante said.
He reached toward the bedside table.
Sitting on the table was a beautiful, small stained-glass art piece, framed in silver.
I looked closer.
It was made from the shattered pieces of the crystal glasses I had dropped on the silver tray three nights ago.
Dante had kept the broken glass. He had turned my moment of absolute humiliation into something beautiful.
“You never have to serve anyone again, Emma,” Dante said, his thumb brushing my knuckles. “But I do have one request.”
May you like
My heart fluttered. “What?”
“When I get out of here,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine, “let me take you to dinner. As my equal.”
