The boardroom was a wreck of stunned silence and Celine's indignant protests, but Adrian didn't wait for the verdict. He took my hand and led me out past the cameras, through the lobby, and back into the quiet sanctuary of the car. Neither of us spoke until we reached the penthouse—the place that had started as my prison and ended as my home.
Inside, the sunset was bleeding gold across the marble floors.
"You lost it," I whispered, looking at him. "The company. The board is going to vote you out because of what I said."
Adrian walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, but he wasn't looking at the city. He was looking at the reflection of the two of us standing together. "Let them vote. I've spent my life building walls and signing deals to protect a seat I never truly wanted alone. Today was the first time I felt like I actually owned my life."
He turned to face me, the shadows of the evening softening the hard lines of his face. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, crumpled piece of the contract he had torn up in the boardroom.
"I saved one piece," he said. "The part with your signature."
"Why?"
"Because I want to replace it." He stepped closer, the space between us disappearing. "There is no more Rule Number One, Mia. No more 'no falling in love.' No more wings of the house that are off-limits."
He took both of my hands in his. For a man who handled billion-dollar mergers, his fingers were surprisingly unsteady. "I don't want a contract marriage. I want a real one. No payout, no debt clearance—just you. Because I realized when I was sick, and again in that boardroom, that the only thing more expensive than ten million dollars is a life without the woman who saved me."
"I'm just a nurse from West Bengal, Adrian," I reminded him, a smile finally breaking through my tears. "I don't have a trust fund or a pedigree."
"You have a spine," he said, echoing his words to his mother, but this time with a tenderness that made my heart soar. "And you have my heart. If you'll have me, of course."
I didn't need to check a ledger or consult a lawyer. I leaned in, closing the distance he had kept between us for months, and kissed him. This wasn't for the cameras, and it wasn't for the board. It was the first honest thing we had ever done.
The Golden Cage was open, but as I looked at Adrian, I realized I didn't want to fly away. I was exactly where I was meant to be.
The End