THE SHATTERED GLASS AND THE LOCKED DOOR

One Year Later.

The crystal champagne flute chimed musically as I tapped it with a silver spoon.

The grand ballroom of the Drake Hotel quieted down, hundreds of faces turning toward the podium. Men in tuxedos, women in elegant gowns—the elite of Chicago’s corporate world.

But I only cared about the man standing beside me.

Dominic looked breathtaking in a tailored black tuxedo, his dark hair perfectly styled, his gray eyes warm and entirely fixed on me.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” I said into the microphone, my voice steady and confident. “A year ago, Caruso & Associates went through a massive restructuring. We removed the toxic elements holding us back, and we rebuilt this firm on a foundation of absolute transparency.”

Applause echoed through the room. They knew the polite corporate terms for "we sent Marcus Santoro to federal prison for the rest of his natural life."

“But more importantly,” I continued, smiling at the crowd. “We built a family.”

I looked down at the front table.

Elena was sitting there, wearing a stunning red dress, laughing as her new fiancé whispered something in her ear. She was safe. She had finally opened her photography studio, free from the crushing weight of a ten-year-old secret.

“To the future of Caruso & Associates,” I said, raising my glass.

“To the future!” the crowd echoed.

As the jazz band started up again and the guests returned to their conversations, Dominic stepped closer to me. He placed his hand gently on the small of my back, leaning down to whisper in my ear.

“You’re a terrifyingly good public speaker, Partner.”

I smirked, taking a sip of my champagne. “I learned from watching a tyrant for eighteen months.”

Dominic laughed, the sound deep and rich. It still amazed me how completely he had transformed. With the threat of Marcus gone, the cold, ruthless exterior had vanished. He was still demanding, still brilliant, but he led with respect rather than fear.

And he never, ever raised his voice at me.

“Walk with me,” he said, taking my hand and leading me away from the crowded ballroom, down a quiet, carpeted hallway toward the hotel’s private terrace.

The crisp November air hit us as we stepped outside. The Chicago skyline glittered around us, a sea of diamonds against the dark night sky.

It was exactly one year to the day since Marcus had shattered our lives.

Dominic wrapped his tuxedo jacket around my bare shoulders, pulling me back against his chest to block the wind. I leaned into him, resting my head against his shoulder.

“Are you cold?” he asked softly, kissing the top of my head.

“Not at all,” I murmured, closing my eyes.

He was warm. Steady. My absolute safe harbor.

“I have something for you,” Dominic said.

I opened my eyes, turning around to face him. “Dominic, you already made me a full partner. You bought Elena the lease for her studio. You don’t need to get me anything else.”

“This isn’t a corporate gift, Diana.”

He reached into his pocket.

For a second, a phantom memory of a silver skeleton key flashed in my mind.

But he didn’t pull out a key.

He pulled out his antique gold pocket watch. The one that doubled as a proximity jammer. The one he had checked in the SUV the night our lives exploded.

He placed it gently into my palm.

“I don’t understand,” I said, looking at the intricate gold casing.

“Open it,” he said softly.

I pressed the small latch on the top. The gold cover popped open.

The clock face was gone.

The intricate gears and the tracking technology had been completely removed. In their place, set perfectly into the circular gold housing, was a flawless, brilliant-cut diamond ring.

My breath caught in my throat. I looked up at him, my eyes instantly filling with tears.

Dominic took the watch from my trembling hands, gently extracting the ring. He didn’t drop to one knee—the lingering stiffness from his gunshot wound made that difficult—but he held my left hand with a reverence that made my heart ache.

“Eighteen months I spent pushing you away,” Dominic said, his voice thick with emotion, his gray eyes shining in the moonlight. “And the last twelve months I have spent praying you would never leave my side again.”

He brushed a tear from my cheek with his thumb.

“You are brilliant. You are brave. You saved my life, Diana. And you gave me a reason to actually live it.”

He slid the diamond onto my ring finger. It fit perfectly.

“Marry me,” he whispered. “Be my partner in everything. For the rest of my life.”

I looked at the ring, then up at the man who had fought through fire and blood to keep his promise to my father. The man who had hidden his heart to protect mine.

I threw my arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep, desperate kiss.

“Yes,” I breathed against his lips. “Yes, absolutely.”

Dominic wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me slightly off the ground as he laughed—a sound of pure, unadulterated joy.

We stood on the balcony overlooking the city, the cold wind swirling around us, the warmth of his chest pressed against mine.

I wasn’t an executive secretary anymore.