By the time I dropped a fork in front of Dominic Vance, half the restaurant had already decided I was dead. At Leon’s on the Magnificent Mile, everyone knew the rule. Serve Chicago’s most feared mafia boss quietly.

By sunrise, the city was clean.

Over forty high-ranking members of the Rossi syndicate were in federal custody, alongside eight municipal officials and three port directors whose names had been meticulously documented in my father’s ledger.

The Department of Justice officially recognized my father, Robert Bennett, as a fallen federal asset, posthumously clearing his name and releasing a three-million-dollar whistleblower settlement to my mother and Noah.

Three weeks later, the chaos had settled into a quiet, peaceful rhythm.

I stood on the second floor of a newly renovated two-story brick building on Michigan Avenue—a classic, sunlit bookstore and bistro with soaring ceilings, rich oak shelving, and bay windows overlooking the park.

My mother was downstairs arranging fresh flowers on the tables, laughing as Noah carried boxes of new textbooks for his upcoming university semester.

The front bell chimed.

I walked down the spiral staircase to find Dominic standing in the entrance. He wore an immaculate charcoal suit, a long black overcoat, and carried a single, perfect white orchid.

He looked around the warm, buzzing space, his gray eyes softening.

"It looks good, Daisy," Dominic said.

"It’s ours," I replied, walking up to him. "My mother has her garden patio, Noah has his college fund, and I have my dream. We don't owe a single penny to anyone."

Dominic stepped closer, offering me the orchid. "And what about your job at the estate?"