Chapter 9 - THE WEDDING OF THE QUEENSThe wedding of Don Silas Marcone and Donnessa Mara Ellison was held at the historic Holy Name Cathedral in downtown Chicago.
It was touted by international media as the event of the decade.
Over one thousand guests filled the massive stone cathedral—a mix of state governors, European royals, mafia leaders from across the globe, and hundreds of working-class families from the South Side who had been invited as honored guests of the bride.
The interior was decorated with ten thousand white orchids, flickering gold candles, and soft organ music that echoed off the ancient stained-glass windows.
At the front of the altar stood Silas Marcone.
He wore a tailored midnight-black velvet tuxedo with silver lapels, his hair perfectly styled, his hazel eyes fixed on the double doors at the back of the cathedral. Beside him stood Marco as his best man, and beside Marco stood little Poppy, wearing a fluffy white lace dress, holding a basket of yellow rose petals.
The heavy wooden doors clicked open.
The organ shifted into a majestic, booming rendition of the bridal march.
Mara stepped into the light.
The entire congregation stood up, gasping in collective awe.
Mara was a vision of breathtaking, voluptuous majesty. Her custom ivory satin gown, designed by a top Parisian fashion house, was tailored specifically for her gorgeous curves—a structural corset that accentuated her small waist, a dramatic off-the-shoulder lace neckline that framed her collarbones, and a fifteen-foot cathedral train that swept over the stone floor like liquid snow.
Upon her dark, styled hair sat a platinum tiara encrusted with brilliant white diamonds—the original crown of the Marcone dynasty.
She walked down the aisle arm-in-arm with her uncle from the South Side, her chin held high, her smile radiant and full of pure, unshakeable confidence.
She didn't look like a woman who had spent four years cleaning bathrooms.
She looked like an empress who had conquered the world.
When she reached the altar, Silas extended his large, warm hand, taking hers into his grip. His hand was shaking slightly—the ruthless king pin was overwhelmed with pure love.
"You look like an angel, my love," Silas whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
"I'm your angel, Silas," Mara whispered back, her dark eyes shining with tears of joy. "Always."
The Cardinal of Chicago spoke the sacred vows, blessing their union under the laws of God and the city.
"Do you, Silas Marcone, take Mara Ellison to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love, honor, and protect, in sickness and in health, in war and in peace, until death do you part?"
"I do," Silas spoke, his deep baritone ringing clear and absolute throughout the cathedral. "With my life, my soul, and my empire."
"And do you, Mara Ellison, take Silas Marcone to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
"I do," Mara answered, her voice steady and full of unyielding love.
"By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife!" the Cardinal declared. "You may kiss the bride!"
May you like
Silas grabbed Mara around her waist, pulling her full, soft body flush against his chest, and dipped her low, pressing his lips onto hers in a passionate, lingering kiss that erupted into thunderous, deafening cheers from one thousand guests!
Little Poppy threw her basket of rose petals into the air, laughing happily: "Yay! Mama and Mr. Silas are married!"
