Chapter 4 - THE GALLERY OF DREAMS
Two months later.
The grand ballroom of the Moretti Plaza in Manhattan was aglow with the light of a thousand crystal chandeliers. Tonight was the grand opening of The Ink and the Vow, a solo art exhibition celebrating modern architectural sketches and emotional landscapes—featuring the work of a newly rediscovered artist named Emma Hayes.
The room was packed with city elites, art critics, politicians, and high-society tastemakers. Camera shutters clicked continuously, and champagne glasses clinked in celebration.
Standing near a massive, floor-to-ceiling charcoal sketch of the Manhattan skyline—the very piece Luca had helped me finish in his private studio—I felt a gentle hand wrap around my waist.
I turned and smiled. Luca looked dashing in a classic tuxedo, his dark hair neatly combed, his eyes locked onto mine with an expression of pure, unfiltered adoration.
"They're falling in love with your work," Luca murmured, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.
"They're falling in love with the publicity your name brings, Mr. Moretti," I teased gently, leaning my head against his shoulder.
"My name only brings them to the door, Emma. Your talent is what makes them stay." He paused, his tone shifting, becoming softer, more hesitant—a rare moment of vulnerability from the man who owned half the city. "Though... there is one piece in this gallery that I'm hoping isn't for sale."
I turned to face him, my heart doing a familiar, fluttering somersault. "Which one is that?"
Luca reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, velvet-covered box. He didn't open it immediately; instead, he looked down at me, his dark eyes shining with emotion.
"The artist," Luca whispered, his voice thick with feeling. "The woman who walked into my life out of the freezing rain six months ago, brought color back to my world, and gave me a family I never knew I was missing."
He dropped to one knee right there in the center of the crowded ballroom.
Gasps rippled through the surrounding crowd. Conversations died instantly. Dozens of heads turned, and a collective hush fell over the entire room as the shadow billionaire knelt before an ordinary woman holding a paintbrush.
Luca clicked open the box. Inside rested a breathtaking, custom-designed ring featuring a rare pink diamond surrounded by a delicate halo of platinum ivy leaves—symbolizing endurance, strength, and life.
"Emma," Luca said clearly, his voice carrying effortlessly across the silent room. "I signed a birth certificate as a stranger, hoping to be your shield. But now... I want to be your partner, your home, and your forever. Will you marry me?"
Tears spilled over my lashes, hot and bright. I didn't hesitate for a single second.
May you like
"Yes," I choked out, a radiant smile breaking through my tears. "Yes, Luca. A million times, yes."
The ballroom erupted into thunderous applause, champagne glasses clinking, flashbulbs popping like fireworks. But I didn't hear the crowd. I only saw Luca’s eyes, filled with absolute joy, as he slid the ring onto my finger and pulled me into his arms.
