Chapter 9 - The Rightful Place
"Your job as a maid ended the second you took that cut for me," Dante stated firmly.
He reached into his pocket and placed a heavy, solid black titanium keycard on the bedside table.
"My father trusted your father to be his voice," Dante said softly. "I was a fool to leave you scrubbing floors when you possess the sharpest mind in this entire estate. You are no longer the hired help, Emily."
I gasped slightly, staring at the keycard.
"I am elevating you to my inner circle," Dante vowed, the absolute power of his massive wealth backing every syllable. "You are now the Head of Intelligence for the Moretti syndicate. I am quadrupling your salary. You will have your own security detail, a permanent suite in this penthouse, and a seat at my table. Nobody will ever, ever raise a hand to you again."
Tears of pure, unadulterated relief and joy spilled down my cheeks.
I hadn't just survived the night; I had secured a future I never dreamed possible.
Over the next month, Dante's vengeance was finalized. Isabella and Carlo were swept up by federal authorities, their bankrupt empires completely collapsing. They were sentenced to federal prison, terrified and destitute, constantly looking over their shoulders for cartel retaliation.
I took my place beside Dante. I didn't wear a black and white uniform anymore. I wore tailored designer suits. I translated the meetings, analyzed the threats, and helped him build an untouchable, incredibly secure empire.
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The blood I shed that night didn't destroy me—it forged a crown.
If you were Emily, would you have accepted a high-ranking position in the mafia, or would you have asked for millions to walk away entirely?
