Chapter 9 - The Second Vow
One month later.
Spring had finally arrived in Rhode Island. The cold rain and gray fogs of autumn had given way to brilliant blue skies, warm breezes, and blooming white cherry blossom trees across the grounds of the Moretti estate.
The grand chapel was decorated once again.
There were no two hundred guests this time. There were no senators, no corrupt judges, no rival capos, and no news reporters hovering outside the iron gates.
The chapel was intimate, peaceful, and bathed in golden afternoon sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows.
Present in the chapel were only those who truly mattered:
Arthur Hale, sitting comfortably in a wheelchair near the front row, looking healthy and dressed in a navy suit.
Sophia Rossi, wearing a beautiful green silk dress, looking proud and tearful beside her daughter.
Little Emma Rossi, dressed in a miniature white lace dress with a brand-new bright red silk ribbon tied neatly in her long curly hair, holding a small basket of fresh white rose petals.
Luca Santoro, standing as my best man, wearing a sharp black tuxedo with a crisp white boutonniere pinned to his lapel.
And standing beside me at the altar was Vanessa.
She wore the same off-white lace gown, but today, she wore no veil over her face. Her blonde hair fell in soft, elegant waves around her shoulders. Her skin was glowing, her blue eyes bright, warm, and entirely free of shadow.
Her hands were in mine.
Warm.
I remember that clearly.
Her fingers were warm as summer sun.
The elderly bishop stood before us, holding his missal, a genuine, gentle smile on his face.
“Alessandro Moretti,” the bishop spoke, his voice carrying clearly through the quiet, sunlit hall. “Do you take Vanessa Hale 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, till death do you part?”
I looked deep into Vanessa’s eyes, holding her hands tight in mine.
“I do,” I said clearly, my voice steady and certain as stone.
The bishop turned to Vanessa. “Vanessa Hale, do you take Alessandro Moretti to be your lawfully wedded husband, 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, till death do you part?”
Vanessa smiled—a smile so beautiful it illuminated the entire cathedral.
“I do,” she whispered, her voice full of absolute devotion.
“By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the bishop announced happily. “You may kiss the bride.”
I stepped forward, wrapped my arms around Vanessa’s waist, and lifted her slightly off her feet as I brought my lips down onto hers.
May you like
The small gathering erupted into joyful applause!
Little Emma threw her handful of white rose petals high into the air, giggling with pure delight as the petals drifted down around us like soft summer snow!
