Chapter 7 - Shadows of Queens
Two weeks passed. The mansion had returned to a eerie kind of quiet, but the atmosphere had permanently shifted.
I sat in front of the vanity mirror in our bedroom, looking at my reflection. My head was completely bald now—Roman had helped me shave the rest of the jagged patches off so it could grow back evenly. I wore a silk robe, my body still healing from the traumatic birth.
I didn’t look like the Bianca who used to manage a restaurant in Gramercy. I looked like someone who had survived a war.
The door opened, and Roman walked in, carrying Valentina. He had become surprisingly adept at holding her, his large, scarred hands cradling her with immense gentleness.
“She just fell asleep,” he whispered, walking over and placing her in the crib beside our bed. He then stepped up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders, looking at our reflection in the mirror.
“You’re thinking too much,” he said gently.
“I’m thinking about what happens next,” I replied, turning around to face him. “Vivienne is downstairs in the dark, but she still has people loyal to her outside these gates. And the council... they accepted Valentina because they fear you, Roman. What happens when they realize I’m not just going to sit in this room and play the quiet wife?”
Roman raised an eyebrow, a slight, intrigued smile playing on his lips. “What are you planning, Bella?”
“I ran the highest-grossing restaurant in Manhattan,” I said, my voice hardening. “I know how to manage inventory, track logistics, and handle difficult people. Your family’s front businesses—the shipping companies, the real estate holding firms—their books are a mess. Vivienne was using them to hide her theft. I want to take over the legitimate side of the Kane empire. I want to control the money.”
Roman stared at me for a long moment, surprise written across his face. Then, his smile widened, a look of pure pride in his eyes.
“You want to be the CFO of the mafia?” he asked.
“I want to secure my daughter’s inheritance,” I said bluntly. “And I want your mother to see that the girl from Queens is rewriting her entire playbook.”
Before Roman could answer, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, and as he read the message, his expression immediately went cold.
May you like
“What is it?” I asked, a pit forming in my stomach.
“My mother’s mercenaries just struck our docks in Brooklyn,” Roman said, his voice dropping an octave. “They didn’t just steal product, Bianca. They took Marcus. They’re demanding Vivienne’s release in exchange for his life.”
