Chapter 2 - THE EMPTY ALTAR AND THE RAGING DON
The heavy oak doors of the Basilica of San Lorenzo stood wide open.
Morning sunlight poured across the immaculate white marble floor.
Two hundred fourteen guests murmured softly in the pews.
Massive arches were draped in thousands of imported white roses.
The organist played a gentle prelude, waiting for the cue that never came.
In the private bridal suite upstairs, the room was terrifyingly quiet.
A four-meter silk veil lay folded across an empty velvet chair.
My engagement ring sat dead center on the mahogany dressing table.
Beside it rested a sealed white envelope with my name written in neat, elegant cursive.
Heavy footsteps echoed down the stone corridor outside.
Fast.
Aggressive.
Unmistakable.
The door handle rattled violently before the wood splintered inward.
Alessandro Vitale stood in the doorway.
His tuxedo jacket was unbuttoned, his tie pulled loose, his breathing ragged.
His gray eyes scanned the empty room in a single fraction of a second.
He looked like a man who had just stepped out of a nightmare into a worse one.
“Serena?” his voice cut through the silence like broken glass.
No one answered.
He crossed the room in three long, furious strides.
His hand snatched up the white envelope.
He ripped it open with trembling fingers.
His eyes devoured the short note I had left behind.
“You had 72 hours to decide which woman you wanted to marry.”
The paper crumpled violently in his fist.
He turned his gaze toward the dressing table.
He saw the ring.
The diamond sparkled under the harsh vanity lights, mocking him.
He reached out, snatching the ring up as if it were burning his skin.
“Get me Marco!” Alessandro roared into the empty suite, his voice vibrating with raw panic.
His security chief appeared in the doorway seconds later, pale and sweating.
“Boss?” Marco stammered.
“Where is she?” Alessandro demanded, grabbing Marco by the lapels of his suit.
“Where is Serena?”
“We... we don’t know, Don Vitale,” Marco choked out.
“The bridal detail lost contact with her private car three hours ago.”
“She didn't come to the church.”
“Search the city!” Alessandro shoved Marcus aside, sending the enforcer stumbling against the wall.
“Search every airport, every port, every hotel room from here to Milan!”
“If she isn't found within the hour, I’ll burn this city to the ground!”
Downstairs in the grand sanctuary, a cell phone began to ring.
It was Alessandro’s personal device.
He pulled it from his pocket and pressed accept without looking at the caller ID.
“Vialti Communications,” a synthesized voice spoke through the speaker.
“An encrypted video file has been delivered to your private terminal.”
“Length: thirteen minutes.”
Alessandro went completely rigid.
“Play it,” he whispered.
The screen on his phone flickered to life.
My face appeared on the display.
Tired.
Resolved.
May you like
Heartbroken.
Every guest in the church downstairs waited in silence, completely unaware that the greatest mafia empire in Rome was about to fracture into a million irreparable pieces.
