All Chapters of His Trophy His War: Chapter 81 - Chapter 86

Empire SecuredLivia stood on the observation deck of the newly rebranded Moretti Logistics HQ, a steaming espresso in hand, her auburn hair catching the light. Below, workers moved crates with steady rhythm—no whispers, no fear. Just business. Clean. Legitimate.Alessandro joined her, his suit crisp, the faint scar on his jaw shadowed by morning stubble. He handed her a manila folder. “Final transfer complete. All assets moved under Il Giardino Holdings.”She opened it. Bank statements. Property deeds. Corporate restructures—all scrubbed clean, fully compliant, legally airtight. The €4.3 million from Russo’s villa now flowed through restaurants, shipping manifests, boutique imports. No trace of blood. No whisper of fire.“We’re untouchable,” he said, voice low.Livia traced the embossed letterhead of the top document: Il Giardino Holdings – CEO: Livia Rossi.She smiled. “Not untouchable. Just unbreakable.”Down in the city, the headlines still screamed Russo’s downfall—but now they a

No Chains Left“You’re not waiting for peace. You’re building it.”Livia’s words hung in the air like smoke from the dying fire. She stood in the midpoint of the penthouse bedroom—the same one where Dante used to stagger in drunk, where she once hid bruises beneath silk, where she learned to sleep with one eye open.Now, the only sound was the soft crackle of flames consuming his past.Alessandro leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her. He hadn’t moved since she’d walked in alone an hour ago. He hadn’t interrupted. Hadn’t tried to soothe. He’d just let her face it—the ghost, the cage, the man who’d once claimed her like a trophy on a shelf.Now, the wedding band she’d worn for three years—the one Dante had slipped on her finger with a smirk and a debt—disintegrated in the fireplace, embered to nothing.She turned to him, her eyes clear, her shoulders unburdened for the first time in years. “I kept it longer than I should have.”“Why?” he asked, voice low, stepping into

The Balcony at Dawn“What now?”Alessandro’s voice was soft against the quiet hum of Milan waking below. He stood beside Livia on the penthouse balcony, the city spread out before them like a kingdom they’d fought for and finally won. No sirens sliced the air. No burner phones buzzed with threats in the dark. No shadows moved at the edge of vision. Just peace—still and wide and theirs.Livia leaned against the railing, the morning air cool on her skin. Dawn painted the skyline in soft gold and rose, washing away the blood and smoke of the last two years. She turned to Alessandro, her green eyes clear, her face finally free of the tension that had lived there for so long.“You’re not my saviour,” she said, her voice steady, sure. “You’re my partner. And that’s enough.”He didn’t answer right away. Just reached for her hand, his fingers lacing through hers with a gentleness that still surprised her—this man who’d once claimed her at a poker table like she was nothing more than a prize.