Chapter 20 - The Rising Sun
The next morning, the Cook County Family Courthouse was swarming with reporters.
Flashing cameras illuminated the cold gray granite steps as Victor Rossi’s black motorcade pulled up to the curb. Enforcers in tailored suits formed an impenetrable wall, parting the sea of journalists as Victor stepped out.
He wore a bespoke charcoal three-piece suit, looking every inch the sovereign ruler of Chicago. But he didn't walk alone.
He turned and offered his hand to me.
I stepped out of the vehicle wearing a tailored ivory dress coat, the brilliant emerald ring flashing on my finger under the morning sun. And between us, holding both our hands, was Finn—dressed in a sharp little navy blazer, his head held high, his chin lifted with the quiet, unshakeable confidence of a boy who knew he was completely and fiercely loved.
Beatrice Vance-Vincenzo was waiting on the courthouse steps with her battery of lawyers, looking smug and victorious.
Until she saw our hands.
Her eyes dropped to the emerald ring on my finger, then to the unbreakable unity of the three of us walking shoulder-to-shoulder up the steps. Her jaw slacked, her face draining of every drop of color.
Victor didn't even look at her as we passed.
“Good morning, Beatrice,” Victor said smoothly, his voice carrying to the surrounding microphones. “The judge is waiting. Let’s see what the law thinks of a grandmother who finances cartels.”
Beatrice staggered back, her attorneys frantically whispering among themselves, realizing in an instant that the trap they had set had completely snapped shut around their own necks.
We walked into the courthouse, our footsteps echoing in unison down the grand marble hallway.
Finn looked up at me, squeezing my hand tightly.
“Harper?” he whispered.
I looked down at him, my heart overflowing with a peace I had never known. “Yes, baby?”
“The sirens aren't loud anymore,” he said, a sweet, proud smile spreading across his face.
I looked across him to Victor, whose gray eyes softened into pure, radiant warmth as he squeezed my other hand.
“No, Finn,” I smiled, looking toward the courtroom doors opening before us. “The sirens are gone. The anchor held.”
The battle for Chicago was far from over. Moretti was in hiding, the syndicate was restructuring, and the shadows of our pasts would always linger at the edge of the estate gates.
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But as Victor leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple, his hand resting securely against the small of my back, I knew that whatever monsters came for us next, they would have to face the two of us together.
And this time, we were the ones who owned the storm.