Chapter 284. Leon’s Toast

The time for speeches arrived as the last of the main courses were cleared. A gentle hush fell over the Guildhall’s Great Room, the clinking of glasses and murmur of conversation softening to an expectant hum. Jessica had spoken already—elegant, heartfelt, reducing half the room to happy tears. Now, it was the best man’s turn.

All eyes turned to Leon. He stood up from the head table like a mountain deciding to relocate, the movement uncharacteristically hesitant. He’d shed his morning coat hours ago, his sleeves rolled up over forearms thick with old tattoos and corded muscle. He held a single index card, which looked comically small in his hand. He stared at it as if it contained instructions for defusing a bomb of unknown origin.

He cleared his throat. The sound echoed in the quiet room. He took a step forward, then seemed to think better of it, remaining planted behind his chair.

“Right,” he began, his voice a low rumble that commanded absolute silence. He looked not at the crowd, but at a point somewhere over their heads, as if addressing a tactical briefing. “I’m not good at this.”

A soft, affectionate chuckle rippled through the guests who knew him.

He glanced down at the card, then crumpled it in his fist and shoved it into his pocket. He looked directly at Anton and Sabatine, who sat side-by-side, her hand resting over his on the table.

“I was asked to talk about Anton,” Leon said, his voice gaining a fraction of strength. “About the groom. But I can’t. Not without talking about her.” He nodded at Sabatine. “Because the man I’m standing up for today… he didn’t exist a year and a half ago.”

Anton felt Sabatine’s fingers tighten around his.

Leon’s gaze grew distant, remembering. “The Anton Rogers I first met was… a fortress. Impenetrable. Cold. Efficient. He gave orders. We followed them. That was the contract. He paid for loyalty, and we gave it, because the money was good and the work was clean.” He shifted his weight, his jaw working. “Then the walls started cracking. There was a thief inside. We didn’t know who. The fortress was poisoning itself.”

He looked at Sabatine again, and his expression shifted into one of profound, grudging respect. “And then she walked in. And she didn’t see a fortress. She saw a crime scene. And she started… digging. In the foundations.” A faint, almost-smile touched his lips. “Drove us all mad. Questioned everything. Tore up floorboards we didn’t even know were there. We hated her for it. Right up until the moment we realized she was the only one trying to save the damn building.”

He paused, taking a long, deliberate drink from his water glass. His hand, Anton noticed, trembled slightly.

“Geneva,” Leon said, the single word dropping into the silent room like a stone. “When the call came in… when we thought she’d turned… I saw him.” He pointed a thick finger at Anton. “I saw the fortress not just crack, but… dissolve. It was the most terrifying thing I’d ever witnessed. Because it wasn’t anger. It was… devastation. The core was gone.”

He looked down at his own massive hands, clenched on the back of the chair. “And then he went after her. Against all advice. Against all logic. He walked into a firefight for a woman the evidence said had betrayed him.” Leon’s voice dropped, becoming gravelly with emotion. “That’s when I understood. It wasn’t a fortress. It was a tomb. And she… she was the resurrection.”

A choked sob escaped from somewhere in the room. Anton’s own throat was a knot of painful gratitude.

Leon lifted his head, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “So I’m not here to toast the billionaire. Or the CEO. I’m here to toast the man she dug out of the rubble. The man who learned that the strongest thing you can do isn’t to build a higher wall… it’s to open the gate.”

He turned fully to face them now, his composure fraying at the edges, his voice thickening. “Anton, you gave me a job. But you—the two of you—you gave me a cause. Something worth guarding that’s more than money or data. You gave this whole… outfit,” he gestured around at the security team members in the room, their faces proud and rapt, “a family. We’re not just employees anymore. We’re… we’re the garrison for something real.”

He swallowed hard, a visible effort. “Sabatine,” he said, her name a respectful syllable in his deep voice. “Ma’am. You are the strongest person I have ever met. And the truest. You walked through hell to get here. And you brought him back with you.” He raised his glass, his hand now steady, his gaze clear and fierce. “So my toast… is to the builders. Not of empires, but of a home. To the guardians. Not of secrets, but of each other. To Anton and Sabatine. May your walls never need to be higher than a garden fence, and may your peace be so boring it drives us all to tears.”

He finished. For a second, there was utter silence. Then, it wasn’t applause that broke out, but a roar. A standing, thunderous, emotional roar that shook the ancient glass in the windows. The security team was on its feet first, whistling and stamping. Then the entire room followed, a tidal wave of approval and shared feeling.

Leon stood there, blinking rapidly, looking utterly besieged by the response. He gave a stiff, awkward nod and made us sit down.

Anton was already moving. He pushed back his chair, the sound lost in the din, and strode around the table. He didn’t offer a hand. He wrapped his arms around Leon in a tight, back-slapping hug that was as much a claim as it was a thanks. He felt the big man stiffen for a second, then slowly, awkwardly, pat his back.

“Thank you, Leon,” Anton said, his voice rough in his ear. “For everything. For seeing us.”

Leon just grunted,a sound that conveyed more than a paragraph ever could. When Anton pulled back, he saw the tracks of tears Leon had swiftly, fiercely wiped away.

As Anton returned to his seat, taking Sabatine’s hand again, the applause finally subsided into a buzz of emotional chatter, he looked at the man now resolutely staring at his plate. 

Leon’s speech had been more than beautiful. It had been a battlefield report from the front lines of their hearts, delivered by the most honest soldier he knew. It was the final, public blessing on their union, and it meant more than any cardinal’s or king’s ever could. The fortress was gone. 

The home was built. And Leon, their steadfast, trembling guardian, had just given them the keys.

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