Chapter 11

A year later.

The cathedral was filled with golden light.

I stood in the back vestibule, looking at myself in the mirror. I wore a stunning, lace-covered white gown. My hair was pinned up with tiny diamonds, and my mother’s old silver locket rested against my collarbone.

“You look like a princess, Mommy,” Maisie whispered, standing beside me in a miniature version of my dress, holding a basket of white rose petals.

“Thank you, baby,” I smiled, bending down to fix her flower crown.

The heavy wooden doors opened.

The music began to play.

I took a deep breath and walked down the aisle.

At the altar stood Dominic. He wore a crisp black tuxedo, looking more handsome than the day I met him. When he saw me, his usual stoic expression broke, giving way to a smile of pure, overwhelming love.

Maisie walked ahead of me, tossing petals perfectly, earning soft awws from the friends and family gathered in the pews.

When I reached the altar, Dominic took my hands. His thumbs gently brushed my knuckles.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. Moretti,” I whispered back.

The priest spoke the traditional vows. This time, there was no fear. There were no sirens, no guns, no corrupt judges.

There was only a man and a woman, promising to love each other for the rest of their lives.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest smiled. “You may kiss the bride.”

Dominic didn’t hesitate. He pulled me in, kissing me deeply, as the church erupted into applause.

At the reception, the grand dining room of the estate had been transformed. There were no cruel guests, no judgmental stares. Only people who loved us.

Dominic stood up, tapping his champagne glass.

“A year ago, I was a man who thought he had everything,” Dominic said to the room, looking directly at me. “But I was wrong. I had power, but I didn’t have a heart. Claire gave me my heart back. And Maisie gave me my soul.”

He raised his glass.

“To my beautiful wife. And to our family.”

“To family!” the room echoed.

Later that night, long after the guests had left and Maisie was asleep in her room, Dominic and I stood on the balcony of the master suite, looking out over the quiet grounds.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Are you happy, Mrs. Moretti?” he asked softly.

I leaned back against his solid chest, looking up at the stars.

“I am exactly where I am supposed to be,” I said.

The maid and the mafia boss. It sounded like a fairy tale.

But as he kissed my neck in the quiet of the night, I knew it wasn’t a story. It was our real, beautiful life.

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