Chapter 9 - The Syndicate’s Queen
The wedding was announced with a single, unembellished notice sent to every major syndicate family, political office, and corporate board across the Midwest. There would be no negotiations, no press releases, and no public spectators.
It was a closed-door ceremony held in the private chapel of the Moretti estate at midnight.
The chapel was illuminated by thousands of white candles, casting long, dramatic shadows against the stained-glass windows. Isabella sat in the front row, wearing a stunning black velvet gown, tears of pure joy shining in her eyes.
Naomi walked down the aisle alone, wearing a breathtaking, floor-length white lace gown that hugged her silhouette with effortless elegance. She carried no bouquet; instead, her hands were steady and relaxed at her sides.
At the altar stood Luca, dressed in a custom charcoal tuxedo, his cold, lethal aura entirely replaced by an expression of fierce, absolute devotion. When she reached his side, he took her hands in his, his calloused fingers tracing the delicate bones of her wrists.
"Do you, Naomi Carter, take this man as your lawful husband, through every storm, every war, and every shadow?" the priest asked quietly.
"I do," Naomi said, her voice clear, ringing out steadily through the cavernous chapel.
"And do you, Luca Moretti, take this woman as your lawful wife, to protect her, honor her, and place your life and empire in her hands?"
"With my dying breath," Luca vowed, his dark eyes locked onto hers with terrifying sincerity.
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He slid a heavy, vintage platinum band encrusted with flawless emerald-cut diamonds onto her finger—a ring that had once belonged to the founding matriarch of the Moretti dynasty.
As they sealed their vows with a deep, slow kiss, the gathered capos, soldiers, and security chiefs bowed their heads in unanimous, absolute submission.
