Chapter 10 - A Future Carved in Gold and Strawberries
One year later.
The summer breeze carried the sweet scent of blooming hydrangeas and fresh Lake Michigan air across the rolling green lawns of the Moretti estate.
The tall stone walls were still there, but the barbed wire was gone, replaced by cascading vines of purple wisteria and climbing white roses. The security guards at the gates smiled and waved at the delivery vans, and the sounds of laughter echoed from the grand patio.
Underneath a magnificent white canopy draped in silk and fresh floral garlands, three hundred guests were gathered.
There were no corrupt politicians, no cartel bosses, no terrified high-society socialites. Sitting among the white chairs were the loyal men and women of Luca’s new, fully legitimate shipping corporation, friends we had made in the community, and neighbors who had welcomed us with open arms.
Standing at the altar beneath an arch of white peonies was Luca Moretti.
He looked breathtakingly handsome in a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo, his dark hair catching the golden sunlight. The serpent tattoo on his hand peeked out from his cuff, a reminder of the darkness he had conquered, but his face held none of the lethal ice that had once defined him.
He was smiling.
Standing beside him was Vincenzo, wearing an ill-fitting tuxedo and looking wildly uncomfortable without an assault rifle, serving proudly as his best man.
The string quartet began to play Pachelbel’s *Canon in D*.
The guests rose to their feet.
Walking down the rose-petal-strewn aisle was the most beautiful flower girl the world had ever seen.
Lily, now eight years old, wore a ruffled ivory dress with a crown of baby’s breath in her brown curls. Her hazel eyes sparkled with unbridled joy as she carefully tossed pink rose petals from a woven basket. Clutched securely in her other hand was Barnaby, wearing a tiny black bow tie to match the occasion.
When she reached the altar, Luca bent down, kissing her cheek and whispering something that made her giggle brightly before she took her seat in the front row.
Then, the music swelled.
I stepped onto the runner.
My heart pounded with an overwhelming, radiant joy. My wedding gown was a masterpiece of French lace and silk, trailing behind me like a cloud, but the most precious thing I carried was not the bouquet of white roses and sweet-smelling strawberry blossoms in my hands.
It was the knowledge that I was whole.
As I walked down the aisle, Luca’s eyes met mine.
The Don of Chicago, the man who had never bowed to any power on earth, had tears glistening in his dark eyes. He watched me walk toward him with an expression of such pure, undiluted worship that every painful step of my past—every cold night, every shed tear, every ounce of despair—suddenly felt like the price I had willingly paid to arrive at this exact altar.
When I reached his side, Luca reached out, taking my trembling hands into his warm, steady grasp.
“You look like an angel,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
“And you look like my husband,” I smiled, my eyes shining with tears of pure happiness.
The minister cleared his throat, his warm voice carrying over the silent, reverent crowd.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to unite Luca Moretti and Hannah Brooks in holy matrimony. But before we exchange the sacred vows of husband and wife, there is a second ceremony of profound importance that must take place.”
The minister looked toward the front row. “Lily, please step forward.”
Lily bounded up the altar steps, standing between Luca and me, looking up at us with wide, radiant eyes.
Vincenzo stepped forward, handing a leather-bound document with the golden seal of the State of Illinois to the minister.
“By decree of the Cook County Supreme Court,” the minister announced, his voice ringing with profound joy, “the petition for full, legal adoption has been granted. Luca Moretti is hereby recognized, before God and the law, as the true, lawful, and loving father of Lily Moretti.”
The guests erupted into thunderous, joyous applause.
Luca didn't care about the decorum of the ceremony. He dropped to his knees right there on the altar, opening his arms wide.
“Daddy!” Lily squeaked, throwing her arms around his neck, burying her face into his silk lapel.
Luca wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her brown curls, his broad shoulders trembling as he wept openly before three hundred witnesses. “My daughter,” he whispered against her hair, his voice breaking with fierce, eternal love. “My sweet, beautiful daughter.”
I knelt down beside them, wrapping my arms around both of them, our tears mingling together in the warm summer sun.
When we finally stood, drying our eyes with white linen handkerchiefs, the minister smiled warmly.
“Luca, do you take Hannah to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?”
Luca looked at me, sliding a platinum band adorned with a row of flawless diamonds onto my finger.
“On my soul, on my honor, and with every breath I will ever take,” Luca vowed, his voice steady, powerful, and absolute. “I do.”
“And Hannah, do you take Luca to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
I slipped a matching platinum band onto his finger, feeling the heavy, comforting weight of his tattooed hand beneath mine.
“With all my heart, for all my life, and for eternity,” I whispered. “I do.”
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the minister beamed. “Luca, you may kiss your bride.”
Luca didn't hesitate. He pulled me into his arms, lifting me slightly off my feet as his lips found mine in a fierce, breathless, passionate kiss that sealed our souls together forever.
The crowd roared in celebration. Confetti of gold and white burst into the clear blue sky, fluttering down like sparkling snow over the garden.
***
Later that evening, after the lavish dinner, after the towering seven-tier wedding cake filled with fresh strawberries and sweet cream had been cut, after Lily had danced herself to exhaustion on Luca’s polished shoes and was fast asleep in her grand bedroom upstairs…
Luca and I stood on the private balcony of our master suite, looking out over the sparkling lights of Chicago.
The city was vast, alive, and glittering beneath the stars. But it no longer held any terror for us.
Luca stood behind me, his arms wrapped securely around my waist, his chin resting gently on my shoulder. A cool summer breeze rustled the silk of my ivory reception gown.
“What are you thinking about, Mrs. Moretti?” he murmured into my ear, his lips pressing a warm kiss against my neck.
I leaned back against his strong chest, looking down at the lush gardens where Lily had played all afternoon, where our future was waiting to unfold in golden peace.
“I’m thinking about that silver tray,” I whispered with a soft smile.
Luca chuckled, the deep vibration rumbling pleasantly through his chest. “The tray Vanessa ordered you to pick up?”
“If she hadn't knocked it out of my hands,” I said, turning in his arms to wrap my hands around his neck, “you would have never stood up from that table. You would have never asked about Lily.”
Luca looked down at me, his dark eyes filled with an ocean of profound, unyielding love.
May you like
“I would have found you anyway, Hannah,” he said softly, leaning down until his lips hovered a fraction of an inch from mine. “If it took a thousand years and a thousand lifetimes, I would have torn this world apart until I brought you and Lily home.”
He kissed me under the Chicago stars—a kiss of promises kept, of wounds healed, and of a love that would never, ever be broken again.