Chapter 15 - The True Queen of the Moretti Empire
Six months later, the Cathedral of the Holy Name in downtown Chicago was surrounded by the highest security detail the state of Illinois had ever seen.
Hundreds of black town cars and luxury limousines lined the streets for six blocks. Over five hundred guests—business leaders, governors, high-ranking syndicate dons from across the globe, and the entire domestic staff of the Lake Forest estate—filled the grand pews beneath the soaring, gilded arches of the cathedral.
At the front of the altar stood Luca Moretti.
He looked impossibly handsome in a bespoke black tuxedo, his dark hair neatly styled, his obsidian eyes fixed with unwavering, breathtaking intensity on the massive carved oak doors at the back of the cathedral.
The pipe organ swelled, filling the sacred hall with the triumphant, beautiful chords of the wedding march.
The double doors opened wide.
I stepped onto the white carpet, wearing an exquisite ivory lace gown with an eight-foot train that flowed behind me like liquid silk. On my arm walked my mother, completely healthy, radiant in a silver gown, crying happy tears as she escorted me down the aisle.
I kept my head held high.
There was no curtain of hair covering my face.
My skin was clear, glowing with health and happiness, my smile lighting up the entire cathedral.
As I reached the altar, Luca stepped down to meet me. He took my hand from my mother’s, bowing slightly to her with deep, genuine respect, before turning his gaze to me.
"You are the most beautiful sight in God's creation, Olivia," he whispered, his voice trembling with an awe he had never shown to any mortal soul.
"And you are my home, Luca," I replied softly.
Before God, the city of Chicago, and five hundred witnesses, we spoke our vows. We promised to protect, honor, and love each other through peace and war, through sickness and health, until death parted us.
When the priest announced us husband and wife, Luca pulled me into his arms and kissed me with a fierce, possessive tenderness that drew a thunderous ovation from the entire congregation.
That evening, the grand ballroom of the Moretti manor was transformed into a paradise of white roses, crystal chandeliers, and golden candlelight.
At the head of the table sat Luca Moretti and his new wife, Olivia Moretti.
Marco, the head butler, approached our table with a silver tray bearing two glasses of vintage champagne. He bowed deeply, his eyes twinkling with genuine warmth and happiness.
"For the Don, and for our Queen," Marco said respectfully.
Luca took his glass, and I took mine.
Luca turned to me, raising his glass in the air. The entire room of five hundred guests instantly fell silent, rising to their feet with their glasses raised in absolute reverence.
"To the woman who saved my life," Luca’s voice rang out, strong, clear, and filled with infinite love. "To the woman who taught this house what honor truly means. To Olivia—the true Queen of the Moretti Empire."
"To the Queen!" five hundred voices roared back in unison.
Luca leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss against my lips as the room erupted into cheers and music.
I looked down at the glittering diamond on my finger, then up into the dark, loving eyes of the most dangerous man in Chicago—the man who had destroyed an entire empire just to heal a bruise on my cheek.
I was no longer the frightened girl hiding behind her hair in the pantry.
I was safe. I was loved.
May you like
And I was home.
THE END
