Chapter 6 - The Broken Bride
By 4:00 a.m., I returned to the Moretti estate.
The storm had finally passed, leaving the night air clean and cold under a dark sky scattered with brilliant silver stars.
The mansion was completely silent. The floral arrangements, white runners, and silver chairs from the interrupted wedding had been removed by the morning staff, leaving the grand hall looking empty, majestic, and peaceful.
I walked up the grand staircase to the private wing and stopped in front of the master suite doors.
I turned the handle quietly and stepped inside.
The room was dim, lit only by the warm glow of a bedside lamp.
Vanessa was sitting on the edge of the large king-sized bed. She was no longer wearing her massive wedding dress. She wore a simple dark blue silk robe, her long blonde hair falling loose over her shoulders. Her face was washed clean of makeup, looking young, fragile, and exhausted.
In her hands, she held a small silver pocket watch—the watch her father had given her when she graduated from university.
She looked up as I entered the room.
Her eyes were filled with an unbearable, suffocating anxiety.
“Alessandro…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I closed the door behind me and walked slowly across the room. I didn't say a word. I sat down beside her on the edge of the mattress, taking the cold silver pocket watch from her hands and setting it gently on the nightstand.
“Your father is safe,” I told her quietly.
Vanessa froze. She stared at me, her breath catching in her throat. “What?”
“My medical transport team picked him up from the clinic in Montreal three hours ago,” I explained, reaching out to take her shaking hands in mine. “He is currently on a private medical jet equipped with life support equipment, accompanied by Dr. Moretti. He will land at the private runway in Boston by seven o'clock this morning.”
Vanessa stared at me as if she couldn't process the words.
“He’s… he’s alive?” she choked out.
“He is alive,” I confirmed. “And the men who held him hostage are either dead or in federal custody.”
A loud, shuddering sob escaped her chest. She threw her arms around my neck, pulling me tight against her as she buried her face into the crook of my neck, weeping tears of overwhelming, agonizing relief.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, holding her close against my chest, feeling the violent trembling of her body slowly begin to settle.
“I’m sorry, Alessandro…” she sobbed against my skin, her tears wetting my collar. “I’m so sorry I didn't tell you… I was so afraid they would kill him… I didn't know who to trust…”
“Shh,” I murmured, running my hand gently through her long hair. “You don't have to apologize. You were trying to save your father’s life. Anyone in this room would have done the same thing.”
She pulled back slightly, looking up into my eyes with raw vulnerability. “What happens now? To us? To the wedding?”
May you like
I looked at her face—the face of the woman I had chosen not because of politics or power, but because she possessed a grace and kindness that my dark world desperately needed.
“Tonight, we rest,” I said softly, wiping a stray tear from her cheek with my thumb. “And tomorrow… we rebuild.”
