THE NINTH BALLOT

One week later.

The Bellandi dining room looked exactly as it had on the night of the anniversary dinner, with one exception. The atmosphere was no longer suffocating.

The tall windows were thrown open, letting the warm spring breeze blow through the sheer curtains. The heavy silver chandeliers gleamed, reflecting the midday sun rather than flickering candlelight.

I stood by the sideboard, watching the family gather.

Adrian stood at the head of the table. His bruised face was healing, but the sharp, commanding presence he carried was stronger than ever. The Commission had received the full report—and the audio recording—two days ago.

Raymond had been officially excommunicated and handed over to federal authorities along with a mountain of evidence regarding his racketeering and extortion. He would spend the rest of his life in a maximum-security prison.

Celeste had been returned to the remnants of the Moretti family, disgraced and stripped of all assets. The Bellandis had made it clear that if she ever stepped foot in the city again, the police wouldn't be the ones to find her.

Mr. Ellis, who had been found tied up but alive in the trunk of Raymond’s car, was recovering in a private hospital.

Victor sat to Adrian’s right. They were laughing about a shipping contract, pouring each other espresso. The rivalry was gone, replaced by a forged brotherhood built on survival.

Rose Bellandi sat at the opposite end of the table. She looked fully recovered, her color vibrant, her posture perfect. She caught my eye and motioned for me to approach.

I stepped forward, my hands clasped respectfully in front of me. I wasn't wearing a black uniform or a white apron today. At Rose’s insistence, I was wearing a tailored navy blue dress.

“Anna,” Rose said, her voice carrying over the chatter of the family members. The room instantly fell quiet.

“Yes, Mrs. Bellandi?” I asked softly.

“Adrian and I have been discussing the restructuring of the family trusts,” Rose said, folding her hands on the table. “With Raymond gone, we have a vacancy on the advisory council. We need someone who is observant, fiercely loyal, and unafraid to speak truth to power. Even when it’s dangerous.”

I blinked, confused. “Are you asking me to find a candidate, ma’am?”

Adrian smiled warmly. “She’s not asking you to find one, Anna. She’s looking at her.”

My breath hitched in my throat. I looked at Victor. He nodded in agreement. I looked at Adrian.

“I’m... I’m just a maid, sir,” I stammered, feeling a flush of heat in my cheeks. “I don't know anything about running a syndicate or managing trusts.”

“You know how to read people,” Adrian said. “You know when a room is lying to you. And you proved that you value justice over your own safety. I can teach you the business, Anna. I can't teach you that kind of character.”

He reached out and pulled out the chair to his left. The chair that had once been reserved for his fiancée.

“This family owes you a debt we can never fully repay,” Adrian continued, his dark eyes sincere. “But we can start by making sure you never have to serve another plate in this house again.”

Rose tapped the table lightly with her knuckles. “Sit down, Anna. That is an order from the matriarch.”

I looked at the heavy mahogany chair. I looked at the powerful, dangerous, loyal family sitting around it. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like a spectator in someone else’s world. I felt like I belonged.

I walked forward, pulled the chair out, and sat down at the table.

Victor raised his espresso cup. Adrian lifted his glass of sparkling water. Around the table, every member of the Bellandi family raised their drink to me.

“To Anna,” Adrian said, his voice ringing clearly through the sunlit room.

“To Anna,” the family echoed.