Chapter 11 – The Wedding In The Garden

(One Year Later)

The Moretti estate was alive with music and laughter.

The gardens had been transformed into a stunning outdoor venue, filled with thousands of white roses and twinkling fairy lights draped across the ancient trees.

It wasn’t a mafia gathering. There were no armed guards at the doors, no whispered threats in the corners.

It was a celebration of life.

I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the bridal suite, smoothing the lace of my white wedding gown.

I was twenty-six years old.

I was the Vice President of the Moretti Foundation.

And today, I was getting married.

The door opened, and Maya walked in, wearing a beautiful blush-pink bridesmaid dress. She was glowing, having just finished her sophomore year of college with honors.

“You look perfect, Nat,” Maya smiled, handing me a bouquet of white lilies.

“Thank you,” I breathed, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves in my stomach.

Sarah walked in behind her. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue, refusing to ruin her makeup.

“My beautiful girls,” Sarah sniffled, coming over to kiss my cheek. “I am so proud of you both.”

“I love you, Mom,” I said, squeezing her hand.

A heavy knock sounded at the door.

“Are we decent in here?” Luca’s voice called out.

“Come in!” Maya laughed.

Luca entered the room, wearing a sharply tailored black tuxedo. He stopped in his tracks when he saw me.

The ruthless businessman vanished, replaced entirely by a beaming, fiercely proud older brother.

“Wow,” Luca breathed. “You look exactly like Mom.”

I smiled, touching the vintage diamond ring on my right hand. “Thank you, Luca.”

He walked over and offered me his arm.

“Dad’s waiting at the bottom of the stairs,” Luca said. “He refused to use the cane today. Said he’s walking you down the aisle on his own two feet if it kills him.”

I laughed, blinking back tears. “Let’s not let it kill him.”

I took Luca’s arm, and we walked out of the suite and down the grand marble staircase.

At the bottom stood Anthony.

He was wearing a classic tuxedo, standing tall and straight. The stroke had taken so much from him, but sheer willpower and love had given it back.

He looked at me, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“You ready, my beautiful Natalia?” Anthony asked, offering his left arm.

“I’m ready, Dad,” I smiled.

The heavy double doors opened to the garden.

The string quartet began to play.

Two hundred guests stood up as I stepped out into the sunlight, flanked by my father and my brother.

I looked down the long, white petal-strewn aisle.

Standing at the altar, looking more handsome than I had ever seen him, was Marcus.

The man who had stood quietly in the shadows for years. The man who had protected my family, who had pulled me back from Camille’s rage, who had held my hand through the darkest nights of the last year.

Our romance had been a slow, quiet burn built on absolute trust and mutual respect.

When Marcus looked at me in my dress, his tough, stoic exterior melted completely. He wiped a stray tear from his cheek, giving me that same gentle, reassuring nod he had given me the night he saved my sister.

Anthony and Luca walked me to the end of the aisle.

Luca kissed my cheek, stepping back to take his place as the best man.

Anthony placed my hand in Marcus’s large, calloused hand.

“Take care of my heart, Marcus,” Anthony said softly.

“With my life, sir,” Marcus promised.

I stepped up to the altar beside the man I loved.

I looked out at the crowd.

I saw Maya smiling. I saw Sarah holding Anthony’s hand. I saw Luca beaming with pride.

A year ago, I was a terrified maid crawling on the floor, trying to protect a family I didn’t know was mine.

Today, I was a daughter, a sister, and a bride.

Marcus squeezed my hand, bringing my attention back to him.

“You look happy, boss,” Marcus whispered, a playful smile on his lips.

I looked at my family, then back at my soon-to-be husband.

“I am,” I said.

And for the first time in my entire life, I knew I was exactly where I belonged.

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