Chapter 5: The Funeral Bride

The heavy mahogany doors of St. Jude Basilica swung open as dusk fell over the city. Golden candlelight flickered across the grand stone arches, illuminating the stained-glass windows of the ancient church.

Lorenzo stood near the altar, wearing an expensive white tuxedo. Surrounding the pews were the oldest Capos of the syndicate, whispering among themselves, confused by the sudden invitation. Lorenzo smiled triumphantly, believing he had outsmarted everyone. In his inner coat pocket sat the stolen Salvatore crown, ready to be displayed as proof of his divine right to rule.

The organ began to play, but instead of a joyous wedding march, the heavy, somber notes of a funeral dirge echoed through the vaulted ceiling.

reached the central doors. Matteo Moretti stepped into the central aisle, dressed in a sharp black suit, accompanied by a dozen heavily armed guards.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lorenzo sneered, stepping forward from the altar step. "This is neutral ground, Moretti! You can't draw blood here under church law!"

"I'm not drawing blood, Lorenzo," a cold, smooth voice echoed from the rear of the cathedral.

The crowd of Capos turned in unison.

I walked down the central aisle slowly, wearing a stunning black lace gown with a veil draped over my face. Behind me walked Elena, holding the arm of a senior family physician, her face pale but completely resolute.

Lorenzo’s eyes widened in sheer horror. "Alessia... Elena? What are you doing?"

"I came to attend a wedding, Lorenzo," I said, reaching the foot of the altar and lifting my veil, revealing eyes filled with absolute ice. "Or perhaps a funeral. It depends on how much truth these gentlemen are willing to hear."

"She's crazy!" Lorenzo shouted to the gathering Capos, pointing a trembling finger. "She's bitter because she couldn't give me an heir! She's trying to destroy our family legacy!"

"An heir?" I laughed, a sharp, cutting sound that echoed off the high stone arches. I pulled a stack of certified medical reports, federal wiretap transcripts, and toxicological analyses from my leather folder and tossed them at the feet of the oldest Capo, Don Vincente.

"Read them, Don Vincente," I commanded softly. "My husband spent three years feeding me reproductive toxins in my morning coffee while embezzling sixty million dollars from our eastern shipping lanes. And the woman he claims carries his heir? She is the daughter of Julian Vance—the man Lorenzo murdered sixteen years ago."

The cathedral erupted into hushed shock and angry murmurs. Don Vincente flipped through the toxicology reports and financial trails, his aged expression darkening with every passing second.

"Is this true, Greco?" Don Vincente growled, standing up and pointing his heavy brass cane at Lorenzo.

"It’s a lie! She forged it all!" Lorenzo panicked, backing away toward the altar rail and pulling a concealed pistol from his coat. "I am the Underboss! I made this family rich!"

Before he could raise the weapon, Matteo moved with terrifying speed. In a flash of steel, Matteo slammed Lorenzo’s wrist against the marble altar rail, disarming him instantly with a sickening crack of broken bones. Lorenzo screamed in agony, falling to his knees and clutching his shattered hand.

"You broke the sacred laws, Lorenzo," Matteo whispered into his ear, holding him pinned against the stone floor. "You poisoned a Don's daughter. You stole from the blood."

I stepped up to the kneeling Lorenzo, looking down at him with utter disgust. I reached into his coat pocket, retrieved the velvet-wrapped Salvatore crown, and unwrapped it in front of the silent room.

"You wanted a crown, Lorenzo," I said, placing the black diamond piece firmly onto my own head. "You wanted an empire. But you forgot one simple rule."

I gestured to the guards, who pulled Elena safely back through the side doors toward the awaiting federal escort.

"Salvatore women don't divorce traitors," I whispered, bending down close to his ear so only he could hear my final sentence. "We bury them."