Chapter 9 - The Cleanup and the City's New Order
Within two hours, the Chicago Police Department, federal marshals, and Dante’s private security had sealed off the entire block around Moretti Tower.
The official narrative released to the press was seamless: A desperate, failed armed robbery by a rogue organized crime cell targeting corporate headquarters, swiftly neutralized by private executive security.
Thomas Vance’s criminal empire collapsed overnight. Federal warrants swept up every remaining associate, while Dante’s corporate entities acquired the Vance logistics assets for pennies on the dollar at a bankruptcy auction.
Dante relocated us to his private coastal estate on the shores of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin—a secluded, heavily guarded sanctuary surrounded by dense pines and rolling hills.
The doctor arrived that afternoon to re-examine my ribs and Dante’s minor injuries.
“Ms. Vance is healing remarkably well,” Dr. Aris announced, packing his medical kit in the sunlit drawing room. “The fracture near the eye is resolving, and the ribs are knitting. Another two weeks of light activity, and she’ll be completely cleared.”
“And Dante?” I asked, looking over at the billionaire who was pretending to read the financial news while listening intently.
The doctor smiled wryly. “Mr. Moretti has the constitution of an ox. A few bruises, but nothing that won't heal in three days.”
When the doctor left, the expansive lakehouse fell into a serene, peaceful silence. The cool autumn breeze rustled through the oak trees outside the open French doors.
Dante set his tablet aside and walked over to the sofa where I was curled under a soft wool throw.
He sat down beside me, stretching his arm across the back of the couch.
“You haven't checked your work email in forty-eight hours,” he said, a faint teasing smile touching his lips. “That has to be a new corporate record.”
“My boss hasn't assigned me any tasks,” I retorted, leaning into his side and resting my head against his broad chest.
Dante wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer. His thumb traced soft patterns on my shoulder.
“Your boss is preparing your termination paperwork,” he said casually.
I stiffened, pulling back to look at him in disbelief. “What?”
Dante’s smile broadened, warm and utterly genuine.
“I cannot have you as my executive assistant anymore, Harper.”
“Dante, after everything we just fought through, you’re firing me?”
May you like
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet-lined black box.
“I’m promoting you,” he said softly, flipping the lid open.
