Chapter 10 - Barefoot Under the Stars
The wedding of Aleandro Moretti and Sophia was unlike any celebration the Moretti estate had ever witnessed.
There were no armed security guards scanning the crowd with cold eyes, no tense mob bosses whispering in dark corners, and no superficial displays of wealth meant to intimidate rivals. Instead, the sprawling garden was adorned with thousands of white wild lilies, warm fairy lights woven through the ancient oak trees, and acoustic string music floating gently through the night air.
Sophia walked down the aisle in a simple, breathless ivory lace dress—elegance born not from extravagant jewels, but from pure joy. Beside the altar stood Aleandro, looking at her with a depth of devotion that brought tears to the eyes of even the oldest estate staff.
And carrying the rings was Emma.
She wore a tiny matching ivory dress, her hair styled in soft curls. As she walked down the aisle toward her parents, she stopped halfway, sat down right on the grass, carefully slipped off her tiny white dress shoes, and placed them neatly beside the flower path.
The guests let out a collective, affectionate laugh.
Barefoot, Emma ran the rest of the way, jumping into Aleandro’s arms with a bright, ringing laugh that echoed across the gardens.
Aleandro caught her effortlessly, lifting her high before placing her hand in Sophia’s.
"You know," Aleandro whispered to Sophia as he took her vows, his voice thick with emotion, "the night Valentina challenged our little girl for a million dollars, I thought I had everything a man could ever want. Power, territory, fear."
He slid a simple platinum band onto Sophia’s finger, his thumb gently brushing her tear-stained cheek.
"I was blind," Aleandro continued, looking deep into Sophia’s eyes. "It took a brave mother and a barefoot little girl to show me that I was completely bankrupt until I found both of you."
"You were never bankrupt, Aleandro," Sophia whispered, resting her forehead against his. "You were just waiting for your heart to wake up."
As the priest pronounced them husband and wife, the garden erupted into applause. Dominick Romano stood in the front row, clapping warmly alongside Marco and the estate staff who had once treated Sophia as an invisible maid.
Later that night, as the music played under a canopy of starlight, the guests gathered around the open-air wooden dance floor.
May you like
Aleandro kicked off his leather shoes, rolled up his crisp white shirt sleeves, and held out his hands to his wife and daughter.
Together, the three of them danced barefoot upon the warm wood—not for money, not for power, and not to prove anything to the world. They danced for the struggles they had survived, the truth that had set them free, and a love that would shelter their family for generations to come.
