Chapter 10 - The Master of New York
Six months later, spring had returned to Manhattan.
Central Park was a sea of blooming pink cherry blossoms, and the warm, golden afternoon sun bathed the historic terrace of the Romano estate on Key Biscayne, Florida.
A grand private celebration was underway.
The terrace overlooked the sparkling, turquoise waters of the Atlantic Ocean, where a long white yacht lay at anchor. Fifty of the most influential figures in the country—senators, judges, high-ranking naval officers, and trusted business leaders—were gathered around long tables covered in white linen and fresh yellow roses.
Vanessa Sinclair and her father, Richard, had been officially sentenced two weeks earlier. Richard received fifteen years in federal prison for securities fraud and corporate embezzlement, while Vanessa received twenty years for conspiracy to commit murder and armed home invasion. The Sinclair name was gone, its legacy erased from the city’s skyline.
On the grand lawn of the estate, six-month-old Julian slept peacefully in a luxury silver pram, guarded discreetly from a distance by Geno and two security personnel. The baby was chubby, healthy, with dark blue eyes and a soft, happy laughter that filled the penthouse every morning.
Abigail stood near the edge of the marble balustrade, looking out at the sunlit ocean.
She wore a breathtaking, custom-designed white silk gown with lace sleeves that trailed gracefully along the stone floor. Her dark hair was styled in an elegant updo, adorned with delicate diamond pins.
She looked radiant, happy, and entirely at home in a world that had once seemed so distant and terrifying.
From behind her, broad arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a solid, warm chest.
Matteo stood beside her, looking dashing in a tailored black tuxedo, his arm holding her close, his thumb lightly stroking her hip.
"You're thinking again," Matteo whispered into her ear, his lips brushing against her soft neck.
Abigail leaned her head back against his shoulder, a soft, contented smile touching her lips. "I was just thinking about that night at the Grand Astoria."
Matteo chuckled softly, a low rumble in his broad chest. "The night Vanessa Sinclair thought she could slap my girl and get away with it."
"I was so terrified, Matteo," Abigail admitted softly, turning in his arms to face him, resting her hands against his lapels. "I was broke, seven months pregnant, standing in a puddle of champagne, thinking my life was over."
Matteo looked down into her hazel eyes, his face filled with an expression of deep, unyielding love.
"And now," Matteo murmured, lifting his right hand to show the polished platinum band resting on his ring finger—a matching band to the brilliant emerald-cut diamond ring glittering on Abigail's left hand—"you are the co-owner of Romano Logistics, the chairwoman of the Foster Foundation, and the wife of the most devoted man in New York."
He reached into his tuxedo pocket, pulling out a small, laminated plastic card—the original, stained catering badge from the Grand Astoria that had clattered onto the marble floor nine months ago.
It had been set into a beautiful, solid-gold protective casing, hanging from a delicate gold chain.
"I had this made yesterday," Matteo said softly, placing the chain around her neck, letting the gold-encased badge rest safely over her heart. "To remind you of where you came from, and to remind this city of the day everything changed."
Abigail touched the cool gold casing with her fingers, tears of pure, overwhelming happiness shining in her eyes.
"I love you, Matteo Romano," she whispered, stepping up on her tiptoes.
"I loved you before I even knew your face, Abigail," Matteo replied, his deep voice filled with absolute conviction. "And I will love you until my last breath."
He leaned down and kissed her—a long, deep, passionate kiss beneath the warm Florida sun, while the waves crashed against the shore and the music played softly across the terrace.
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The catering girl who had once bled for a stranger in a cold hospital hallway was a ghost no longer.
She was Abigail Foster Romano—the protected, revered, and undisputed queen of the Romano empire.
