The old industrial shipping docks—once choked by syndicate corruption and illegal contraband pipelines—were now bustling with clean, legitimate commerce, public boardwalks, and families strolling along the water's edge under bright streetlamps.

We parked our car near the pier and walked arm-in-arm along the wooden promenade, listening to the gentle lapping of the waves against the pylons.

"Remember when we first stood down here during the Vanguard crisis?" Daniel asked, smiling faintly as he looked out across the dark water.

"I remember thinking you were the most intimidating man I had ever met," I teased, bumping my shoulder playfully against his.

"And now?"

"Now you're just my husband," I smiled, sliding my hand into his warm, calloused palm.

"I like the sound of that," Daniel murmured, pulling me close as we watched a massive cargo ship—carrying legitimate goods, protected by honest labor—sail smoothly out toward the open ocean under a sky full of stars.