Elia opened the folder. “I transferred the port company this morning,” she said calmly.
The words struck the room like a dropped grenade.
Vittorio stared at her. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s already done,” Elia replied.
She slid the documents across the table. “The ports belong to Magnus Severin now.”
Magnus stiffened in disbelief. The silence that followed was absolute.
Vittorio snatched the papers and scanned the signatures. The color drained from his face with shocking speed. Bianca leaned over his shoulder, reading the same lines, her breath catching in disbelief.
“You stupid girl,” she hissed. “Do you understand what you’ve done?”
“Yes,” Elia said.
Magnus finally moved. “So do I.” The words cut through the room with lethalcalm.
Every head turned.
Magnus crossed the salon, his gaze fixed on Elia. The tension in his chest hadn’t eased. It had only changed shape. Relief. Pride. Rage that she had walked into this house alone. And something far more dangerous beneath all ofit.
Love.
He stopped beside her. For a moment neither of them spoke but an endless conversation passed betweenthem.
Then a Donati guard moved. The man took two fast steps toward Elia. Magnus reacted before the second foot hit the floor. His hand closed around the guard’s throat and drove him backward into the wall with violent precision. The impact crackedthrough the salon. Magnus held him there a moment longer than necessary, his grip tightening just enough for the threat to become unmistakable.
The entire room froze. Every person present understood exactly how easily that pressure could become lethal.
Magnus released him and the guard collapsed against the wall coughing and didn’t try to straighten. “Stay where you are,” he warned.
No one moved.
He turned back to Vittorio. “You tried to kill the woman who held your empire in her hands,” Magnussaid.
Vittorio’s grip tightened on the documents, the paper crumpling slightly beneath his fingers as the meaning of the signatures sank in. His eyes lifted toward Elia, disbelief giving way to a darker realization. The empire he had built his life around had just slipped out of his control.
Magnus stepped closer to Elia, placing himself between her and the Donatis with restrained inevitability. The movement was unhurried, almost casual, yet the shift in the room was immediate. The balance of power tilted withhim.
“She chose to give it to me instead,” hesaid.
The words landed with brutal clarity. Not taken. Not seized. Chosen.
The humiliation struck Vittorio harder than any weaponever could.
Magnus didn’t look at him again. His attention had already returned to Elia. For a moment he simply studied her face, as if confirming for himself that she was truly standing there unharmed after walking into this house alone.
Then he reached for herhand.
His fingers closed around hers with firm certainty. The moment their palms met, the shield Brands flared against their skin, abrief pulse of heat passing between them like a living current before settling again. The contact grounded him in a way nothing else in the room could.
“We’re leaving,” he said.
Her fingers tightened around his before he could turn away, holding him there for the briefest moment. “Are you furious with me?” she asked.
Magnus didn’t answer immediately. His gaze searched her face, as if he were cataloging every detail to prove to himself she was real and standing safely beside him. Astrand of her hair had come loose during the confrontation and rested against her cheek. There was color high in her face, but no fear. No regret.
