Chapter 8 - The Coronation of Hearts
One month later.
The Cathedral of Saint Ambrose in the heart of Milan was filled with four hundred distinguished guests.
Mayors, ambassadors, syndicate leaders, and former housekeepers sat side by side beneath the towering stained-glass windows, bathed in streams of crimson and gold sunlight.
Soft organ music echoed through the ancient stone arches as the double oak doors at the back of the cathedral swung open.
Standing at the end of the long white carpet was Alessandro Moretti, wearing an exquisite black tuxedo, looking taller and more handsome than any king in history. Standing beside him as his best man was Marco, wearing a sharp suit with a white rose pinned to his lapel.
The music shifted into a majestic, sweeping symphony.
Little Emma walked down the aisle first, wearing a small white lace dress, carrying a basket of pink rose petals, tossing them left and right with a huge, radiant smile on her small face. Clutched tightly under her arm was her famous blue wool rabbit—now wearing a tiny gold ribbon around its neck.
Then came the bride.
I walked down the aisle on the arm of Don Ricci—who had insisted on standing in as my escort to show the entire nation of Italy that the new Queen of Milan had the full, unyielding respect of the Commission.
I wore a breathtaking off-the-shoulder gown of ivory silk, a long lace veil trailing six feet behind me, holding a bouquet of white lilies.
When my eyes met Alessandro’s across the cathedral, everything else in the world melted away.
There were no crime families. There were no shadow threats. There were no memories of cold staff quarters or painful slaps in the dark.
There was only him.
When I reached the altar, Don Ricci gently placed my hand into Alessandro’s.
"Take care of her, Alessandro," the old Don growled softly, a tear twinkling in his old eye. "She’s the best thing that ever happened to this city."
"I will protect her with my life, Don Ricci," Alessandro swore softly.
Alessandro looked down at me, his blue eyes overflowing with an absolute, devotional love that made my soul soar.
The Cardinal spoke the ancient Latin vows, his voice echoing through the holy hall.
"Do you, Alessandro Moretti, take Clara Bennett to be your lawful wedded wife... to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"
"I do," Alessandro said, his deep voice unwavering, resonant, and absolute.
"And do you, Clara Bennett, take Alessandro Moretti to be your lawful wedded husband?"
"I do," I whispered, tears of joy streaming down my cheeks.
"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife," the Cardinal declared with a warm smile. "You may kiss the bride."
May you like
Alessandro reached out, lifting my lace veil gently over my head. He framed my face in his large, warm hands, leaning down to press his lips against mine in a kiss that sealed our souls together forever.
The cathedral erupted into roaring applause, cheers and applause filling the sky as the King and Queen of Milan turned hand in hand to face their people.
