Page 105 of Blood Heir

The room explodes with the thunder of boots. Council guards surge forward in unison. Vittoria tries to fire again, but one of the guards wrestles the gun from her hand, pinning her arms behind her back.

“You fools!” she shrieks, spitting as they wrestle her to her knees. “You will regret this!”

Serevin barely notices the shouting. His arms quickly go around me, catching me as I fall, gently lowering me to the shiny floor as if he's afraid I might break if he moves too fast.

“Fioretta,” he breathes, voice breaking. His palm presses desperately over the wound, as if he can will the blood to stay in.

Emilia drops to her knees beside me, eyes wide and frantic. Tears streak down her cheeks as she chokes on sobs. “Oh God, oh God, no—Fioretta, please—please don't—”

The pain ripples through me, but it's not nearly what it should be. I feel the sharp sting, but there’s something else. Something solid pressing against my ribs. My breathing is sharp, but manageable.

And then I remember.

My breath hitches on a laugh as I glance up at both of them. Emilia’s sobs falter as she stares at my lips moving.

“Bulletproof vest,” I whisper.

For a moment, there’s stunned silence. Serevin stares, his face twisted in a cocktail of disbelief and relief.

Emilia blinks, wipes her wet face with both hands, then lets out a loud, half-hysterical laugh through her tears. She immediately swats at my shoulder. “You bitch,” she sniffles. “You scared the shit out of me!”

I laugh softly despite the sharp ache in my side. “I scared myself.”

Serevin collapses forward, his forehead pressing against mine, his arms encasing me fully now, gripping me like he might never let go again. His breath shakes against my cheek. “I thought—I thought I lost you.”

“You don’t get rid of me that easily,” I manage with a broken smile.

Behind us, the council guards drag a still-screaming Vittoria from the chamber.

But right here—on this floor, in Serevin’s arms, with Emilia sobbing into my shoulder—I know the tides have finally shifted.

The war may not be over. But for the first time, we are no longer losing.

Epilogue - Fioretta

The soft rustle of silk follows me as I stand before the tall mirror, fastening the tiny clasp of my necklace. My reflection stares back at me—steady, composed, unfamiliar still in its quiet peace. A silk champagne gown wraps around my frame.

Behind me, I hear the low click of the closet doors opening.

“You’re staring at yourself like you’re not the most beautiful woman in Melbourne,” Serevin says, his voice smooth, laced with that quiet possessiveness he never quite hides.

I meet his gaze in the mirror as he approaches. He’s half dressed, his white shirt open at the collar, cufflinks in hand, the black suit jacket still hanging on the chair. The years have softened him only in the smallest ways. His edges remain sharp; the man beneath the is still lethal, but his eyes only ever soften for me now.

“We’re not late yet,” I murmur, raising a brow as he comes to stand behind me, towering as always.

He slips his arms around my waist, resting his chin lightly on my shoulder, and watches me through the mirror. His thumb traces idle circles on my stomach.

“It’s just…hard to believe sometimes.” I let the words fall from my mouth before I can stop them.

It’s strange how quickly two years can change everything. Not long ago, this house was filled with ghosts—betrayal dripping from every polished wall. Now it’s ours. Fully ours.

After the coup, the council did what it always does—it chose survival over loyalty. Vittoria and Gustavo were excommunicated for treason against the Melbourne syndicate. Exiled. Stripped of their rights. Every territory they controlledwas absorbed back into the syndicate and redistributed under my authority.

Even Vittoria’s own blood—the Accardi elders, her loyal hounds—eventually submitted to me. They didn’t have a choice. With the council’s vote, I was officially recognized as the legitimate daughter of Don Aldo—Serevin’s adoptive father, my biological one. The true heir to the D’Angelis fortune and the Accardi empire. The bloodlines merged, for the first time in syndicate history, under a woman’s rule.

Serevin handed it to me without hesitation.

“My aunt’s game is over,” he said that day in front of the council. “The old bloodlines answer to my wife now.”

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