Chapter 27 - A Wedding with Armed Ushers
Elena refused to have a mafia wedding.
This created logistical problems because most of the guest list technically qualified.
“No guns,” she told Adrian.
He stared.
“At our wedding?”
“Yes.”
“That’s irresponsible.”
“Adrian.”
“Fine. Concealed guns.”
“No guns.”
Dominic mediated.
“Security can remain outside.”
Elena agreed.
Adrian behaved as if civilization had collapsed.
They chose Santa Rosalia.
The restored chapel.
The same place Antonio’s letter had been hidden.
Spring covered the hillsides with wildflowers.
Sofia traveled with medical staff.
Her memory had improved dramatically.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
Tasha arrived from New York and immediately flirted with a Caruso dock captain.
Isabella wore dark blue.
Dominic complained about humidity while secretly organizing everything.
On the morning of the wedding, Elena stood before a mirror in her grandmother June’s restored lace veil.
Sofia entered.
For several seconds, Elena feared she might not know what day it was.
Then Sofia smiled.
“You look like I did.”
Elena cried instantly.
“No. You’re not allowed to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make me cry before makeup.”
Sofia laughed.
She touched Elena’s cheek.
“Your father should be here.”
“He is.”
Elena showed her Antonio’s falcon ring.
Sofia kissed it.
The chapel bells began.
Elena walked down the aisle alone.
Halfway, Isabella joined her.
Not replacing Antonio.
Simply walking beside her.
Adrian waited at the altar.
No terrifying mafia boss.
No ruthless port king.
Just a man looking at Elena like the world had narrowed to one person.
The priest began.
Outside, security watched the roads.
For once, nothing happened.
No assassin.
No betrayal.
No hidden bomb.
The biggest crisis was Tasha’s heel breaking during the reception.
At sunset, Adrian led Elena toward the village overlook.
“You’re Mrs. Bellandi now.”
She stopped.
“No.”
He looked alarmed.
“Elena.”
“I’m Elena Caruso Bellandi.”
He smiled.
“Fair.”
“And professionally, still Caruso.”
“Obviously.”
“Good.”
He kissed her.
Below them, music drifted from the village square.
Children ran among tables.
Old men argued over wine.
Sofia danced slowly with Dominic.
Elena stared.
“Is that happening?”
Adrian looked.
“I need a drink.”
They laughed.
Then Elena’s phone rang.
She groaned.
“No.”
Adrian took it.
“Turn it off.”
“It might be important.”
“It is our wedding.”
She looked at the screen.
Federal prosecutor.
Adrian sighed.
Elena answered.
The message was brief.
Vittorio De Luca had been sentenced.
Life imprisonment.
No parole.
Dozens of corrupt officials had been charged using Antonio’s recovered archive.
Aurelia Trust was being dissolved.
Victim restitution funds would repay workers and businesses harmed by Vittorio’s schemes.
Elena ended the call.
“Done?”
Adrian asked.
She looked toward Santa Rosalia.
“Yes.”
This time, she believed it.
He held out his hand.
“Dance with me.”
“I don’t dance.”
“You survived assassins.”
“Different skill set.”
“Trust me.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“That phrase has caused most of my problems.”
Still, she took his hand.
May you like
Under strings of lights in the village where their families had once lost everything, Elena Caruso danced with Adrian Bellandi.
And nobody interrupted them.
