Chapter 10 - The Queen of Chicago
One year later.
The Cathedral of the Holy Name in downtown Chicago was adorned with ten thousand white roses.
The streets outside were blocked off by police escorts and private security teams. Hundreds of guests filled the massive marble pews—governors, senators, foreign dignitaries, and every major business leader in the Midwest.
Inside the bride's room, Isabella was placing a long, lace veil over Lena’s head.
Lena looked breathtaking. She wore an off-the-shoulder gown of heavy Italian silk, decorated with subtle, intricate embroidery that gracefully covered her shoulder and back. She looked radiant, powerful, and wildly beautiful.
"You are the daughter I always prayed for," Isabella wept softly, kissing Lena’s forehead. "My son is a good man today because you showed him how to love."
"Thank you, Ma," Lena smiled, wiping away a happy tear.
A knock came at the door. Danny rolled in, wearing a sharp grey tuxedo. His physical therapy had progressed so well that he could now stand with the aid of braces.
"Ready, sis?" Danny smiled proudly.
"Ready," Lena said, taking her brother's arm.
The heavy oak doors of the cathedral swung open. The grand pipe organ filled the soaring stone hall with the majestic notes of the wedding march.
The entire congregation stood up.
At the end of the long aisle stood Marco Duca.
He looked impossibly handsome in a black velvet tuxedo. Beside him stood Dominic as his best man. But Marco didn't see the crowd, the flowers, or the cameras. His eyes were locked entirely on the woman walking toward him.
When Danny handed Lena’s hand to Marco at the altar, Marco leaned down and whispered to the young man: "I’ve got her now, brother."
The ceremony was sacred, quiet, and profound.
When the priest asked for their vows, Marco held both of Lena’s hands in his, looking straight into her eyes, his voice echoing clearly off the stained-glass windows:
"I, Marco Duca, take you, Helena Carter, to be my wedded wife. I promise to honor you, protect you, and cherish you. My empire is yours. My life is yours. I will spend every breath I have ensuring you are loved, safe, and revered."
Lena smiled through her tears, her voice steady and clear:
"I, Helena Carter, take you, Marco Duca, to be my wedded husband. I give you my heart, my loyalty, and my future. Where you go, I will go. Your home will be my home."
"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest declared. "You may kiss the bride."
Marco pulled Lena into his arms, dipping her gently as he kissed her deeply, unleashing a storm of cheers, applause, and applause that shook the cathedral walls!
They walked out of the cathedral hand in hand, stepping out into the bright Chicago sunshine.
The paparazzi flashed cameras, news helicopters hovered overhead, and the crowd cheered for the new power couple of the city.
Marco stopped on the cathedral steps, pulling Lena close to his side. He looked down at her, the woman who had transformed his dark, violent world into a paradise of love and hope.
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She wasn't a caregiver anymore. She wasn't a nobody.
She was Lena Duca—the Queen of Chicago, the woman who had brought the most feared man in the city to his knees, and the love that had healed them all.
