Chapter 7 - THE RECKONING AT THE ALTARThe grand cathedral of St. Jude was packed to maximum capacity. The organ played a solemn, majestic wedding march as the heavy oak doors swung open.
Camille Vitale walked down the aisle in a gown of French lace that cost more than a suburban home, her face as pale as chalk. Waiting for her at the altar stood Silvio Marchetti, who had taken it upon himself to act as the groom's proxy, since Domenico had supposedly fallen "gravely ill" that very morning.
The crowd whispered in awe, cameras flashing from the rear pews. Silvio stood tall, a triumphant, arrogant smirk playing on his lips. The empire was within his grasp. Just a few more words, and the Vossi name would belong to the Marchetti dynasty forever.
"Dearly beloved," the priest began, raising his Bible, "we are gathered here today to unite this man and this woman in holy matrimony—"
CLANG.
The massive iron-studded oak doors of the cathedral suddenly flew backward, slamming violently against the stone walls with a force that shook the stained glass windows.
The music cut off instantly. A collective gasp swept through the hundreds of elite guests as a cold, heavy silence fell over the sacred hall.
Walking slowly down the center aisle, step by deliberate, agonizing step, came Domenico Vossi.
He wore a custom black tuxedo, leaning slightly on a heavy silver-headed cane, but his posture was straight, his shoulders square, and his eyes locked entirely on the altar. Behind him walked Bruno, and flanking the side aisles were a dozen loyal Vossi enforcers, blocking every exit.
Silvio turned white as a corpse. His jaw dropped, his knees shaking so violently his trousers fluttered. "N-No... that's impossible. The doctor said... the toxin..."
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Domenico stopped ten paces from the altar. The sound of his leather shoes hitting the marble floor echoed like hammer blows in the quiet church.
"The doctor lied, Silvio," Domenico's voice boomed, rich and commanding, carrying across every corner of the cathedral.
