Chapter 10 - The Legacy
Six months later.
The annual Duca gala was held in the grand conservatory of the Long Island estate—not in a rented ballroom, but in Roman’s own home, under the tight, impenetrable security of fifty loyal guards.
Four hundred guests filled the glass enclosure, which was filled with blooming white jasmine, hanging ivy, and thousands of soft fairy lights that sparkled like stars against the night sky.
The mood was vibrant, celebratory, and light. The fear that had gripped the family during Victor’s rebellion had vanished, replaced by a renewed sense of strength and prosperity.
Roman stood near the central glass fountain, wearing a classic black tuxedo, a glass of vintage wine in his hand.
Beside him stood Elena.
She wore an emerald green gown that flowed down to her feet like liquid silk, a simple diamond necklace sparkling against her throat.
Her hand was tucked securely into the crook of Roman’s arm, her fingers resting against his sleeve.
Captain Moretti approached them, holding a glass of champagne, a wide, genuine smile on his weathered face. “A toast, Boss! To the most prosperous quarter this family has seen in twenty years!”
The surrounding captains and guests cheered softly, raising their glasses in unison.
“To the Boss!” Moretti called out. “And to the Lady of the house!”
“To Roman and Elena!” the crowd echoed.
Roman smiled, raising his glass politely, but his gaze quickly drifted down to the woman beside him.
Elena looked up at him, her hazel eyes glowing with love and happiness.
She leaned close to his ear, her breath warm against his skin. “Are you enjoying your party, Mr. Duca?”
“I’m enjoying the view,” Roman replied softly, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her slightly away from the crowd toward the quiet edge of the conservatory balcony.
They stood together looking out over the dark waters of the Long Island Sound, the cool night breeze rustling the leaves of the surrounding oak trees.
“My father asked me something today,” Elena said offhandedly, resting her chin against his shoulder.
“Oh? What did he ask?”
“He asked if I was ever afraid of you.”
Roman grew quiet for a second, looking out at the dark water. “And what did you tell him?”
Elena turned in his arms, wrapping her hands around his neck, looking up into his dark, obsidian eyes—eyes that were no longer cold, but filled with a fierce, unwavering warmth.
“I told him I was never afraid of you,” she whispered gently. “I was only afraid of living in a world where you weren't beside me.”
Roman felt a deep, profound warmth flood his entire chest. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers.
“You’ll never have to worry about that again, Elena,” Roman promised, his voice rich with absolute conviction. “As long as I draw breath, I am yours. My life, my family, my empire—it all belongs to you.”
Elena reached up, kissing him softly on the lips—a gentle, sweet promise that sealed their past, their present, and their future.
Above them, the fairy lights flickered softly in the glass roof, reflecting off the quiet waters below.
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The blood had been washed from her hands. The darkness had been driven from his heart.
And together, the mafia boss and the wife who had saved him stood unbroken, ready to rule the empire they had built together.
