---- Chapter 17 Eliza POV: With the Yangs and their money out of the picture, the Robinson acquisition was a formality. | now owned, through a network of holding companies, the empire that had once looked down on me with such contempt. There was one final holdout: Alton Thornton. From his hospital bed, where he was slowly recovering from the stroke he'd had after his last confrontation with Cash, he fought the sale with every legal maneuver in the book. He would rather see the company burn to the ground than sell it to me. Cash, for the first time in his life, defied him. He walked into Alton' s hospital room and told him the takeover was a done deal "You are selling my legacy to that... that whore?" Alton roared, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple. "Her name is Eliza," Cash said, his voice quiet but firm. "And this is no longer your legacy. It's the price for our sins." He then told his father about the video. About his confession. About the murder he had planned. Alton Thornton had another, more massive stroke. This one left him in a permanent vegetative state. A living ghost, ---- trapped in a broken body, forced to watch as the world he built was handed over to the daughter of his housekeeper. Cash signed the final papers. The Robinson Corporation was mine. That night, my phone rang. It was Cash. "Is there any part of you," he asked, his voice a raw, broken whisper, "that could ever forgive me?" | was sitting in front of a fireplace in Dane's penthouse. In my hand was a small, crudely carved wooden bird-a gift Cash had given me on our first anniversary. | had kept it all these years, a secret talisman of a love | thought was real. | thought of the cold, damp kennel. Of the searing pain of the dog's teeth. Of my mother's body at the bottom of the stairs. | opened my hand and dropped the bird into the flames. | watched it blacken, curl, and turn to ash. "No," | said, and hung up. A few hours later, | received a bank notification. Cash had transferred an obscene amount of money into my account-the five million dollars his father had originally offered me, plus interest, compounded over five years. It was blood money. A final, pathetic attempt at absolution. | transferred it all back to him, with a single memo: "We are even." ---- The next morning, the news broke. Cash Robinson had turned himself in to the police, confessing to the illegal confinement of Eliza Fuentes. He was sentenced to three years in prison. | felt nothing. The final ghost had been laid to rest. The past was finally, truly, over. | stood on the balcony, looking out at the rising sun. The emptiness inside me was a vast, quiet landscape. | had won. But | was alone. "It was never a real wedding announcement," a voice said from behind me. | turned. Dane was standing there, holding two cups of coffee. "The announcement about my wedding," he continued, a slow, ridiculously charming smile spreading across his face. "| never cancelled the venue. Or the caterer. Or the ridiculously expensive band." "You tricked me," | said, a ghost of a smile touching my own lips for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. "| prefer the term 'strategic planning', he said. He put the coffee cups down. He got down on one knee. He pulled out a box containing a ring so beautiful it stole my breath. "Eliza Fuentes," he said, his voice no longer playful, but thick with a sincere, profound emotion. "You are the strongest, most brilliant, most terrifying woman | have ever met. You burned down the world to get your justice. Now, let me spend ---- the rest of my life building a new one with you." Tears, hot and unfamiliar, pricked my eyes. They weren't tears of grief or rage. They were something new. "Our wedding is next Saturday, by the way," he added with a grin. "If you're free." | laughed. A real, actual laugh. The sound was rusty, foreign, but it was there. "What if | said no?" | asked. "Then I'd just have to keep asking. Every day. Until you say yes." | looked at him, at this man who had seen the ugliest, most broken parts of me and had not run away. He had stood by my side, my partner in vengeance, my anchor in the storm. | pulled him to his feet and kissed him, a kiss that tasted of coffee and new beginnings. "I'm free on Saturday," | said. "But | don't want to wait." | took his hand. "Let's go now." He stared at me, his eyes wide with surprise and a dawning, brilliant joy. He squeezed my hand, his thumb stroking my knuckles. "As my queen commands," he whispered. The sun was higher now, its golden light spilling across the ---- harbor, washing the city in a clean, hopeful glow. The future was no longer a ghost-haunted landscape. It was a blank page. And for the first time, | was ready to write a new story.