Chapter 9 - The Blood Oath and the BanquetThree months later, the Vance estate looked less like a mafia stronghold and more like a royal palace.
The entire western lawn was covered by a massive, silk-draped white marquee tent, illuminated by thousands of twinkling fairy lights strung through the ancient oak trees. String quartets played softly in the background, while hundreds of guests—legitimate business leaders, foreign dignitaries, politicians who knew better than to ask questions, and loyal members of Matteo’s inner circle—mingled beneath the summer stars.
At the center table sat Sofia, wearing a miniature white tulle dress that made her look like a tiny princess, proudly holding a silver spoon and happily eating her third slice of wedding cake.
And standing near the grand staircase inside the mansion, looking into the mirror of the private suite, was Josephine.
The custom-tailored silk and lace wedding gown clung perfectly to her full, voluptuous curves, accentuating her waist and framing her shoulders with breathtaking elegance. Her dark hair was styled in an intricate, classic updo, and her face—once marred by dust, blood, and bruises—now glowed with a radiant, untouchable confidence.
The heavy oak door clicked open.
Matteo walked in, wearing a bespoke black tuxedo with a subtle silver silk tie. When his dark eyes landed on Josephine standing by the mirror, he stopped dead in his tracks. The breath seemed to leave his lungs all at once.
"Wow," Matteo whispered, walking slowly across the plush rug until he stood directly behind her, his hands resting gently on the curves of her waist in the mirror’s reflection. "I always knew you were stunning, Josephine. But this... this is entirely unfair."
Josephine smiled, leaning back against his solid, powerful chest. "You clean up all right yourself, Mr. Vance."
"Mr. Vance?" Matteo raised an eyebrow, burying his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her sweet, familiar scent. "I believe by approximately three o'clock this afternoon, that title officially transfers to our daughter. You are legally required to call me Matteo."
"We'll see how you behave at the reception," she teased, turning around in his arms to wrap her hands around his neck.
Matteo’s expression softened, the hard, ruthless edge of the underworld boss melting away entirely. He looked down at her with a depth of devotion that defied every myth told about him in the dark alleys of Chicago.
"I love you, Josephine," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You saved my daughter's life. You saved my soul. I will spend the rest of my days making sure no one ever makes you feel small in this house again."
"I know," Josephine smiled, pressing her lips softly against his. "Because if they try, Rafael is waiting with another cargo flight to Bogotá."
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Matteo threw his head back and laughed—a rich, booming sound of absolute happiness that echoed off the stone walls of the mansion.
"Come on, Mrs. Vance," Matteo said, offering her his arm. "Let’s go show Chicago what a real family looks like."
