Chapter 8 - The Queen's Vow
Three months later.
The spring sun warmed the stone terrace of the Moretti estate, turning the manicured rose gardens into a sea of vibrant red and white blossoms.
The heavy black iron gates at the entrance of the estate remained closed, but the dark, suffocating tension that had hung over the house for twenty-two years was completely gone.
In the city, the merger of the southern port facilities under the newly formed Moretti-Lorenzo Enterprise had brought unprecedented peace and wealth to the family. The Falcone name had been erased from the Five Families council, replaced by a permanent seat held in my name.
I stood near the stone balustrade wearing a simple lavender silk dress, watching Nonna Sophia sit near the fountain, laughing as she taught Rosa—who had been fully cleared of treason after revealing Gianna had threatened her family—how to knit a baby blanket.
Soft, warm arms wrapped around my waist from behind.
I leaned back against Marco’s broad chest, sighing contentedly as he rested his chin on my shoulder, his warm breath tickling my neck.
He wore a tailored grey suit without a tie, looking relaxed, powerful, and utterly devoted.
"What are you thinking about, mia regina?" Marco whispered, kissing the side of my neck right over my crescent birthmark.
"I was thinking about the four bullets," I smiled softly, turning in his arms to look up into his striking gray eyes. "And how I thought taking them was the worst mistake of my life."
Marco chuckled—a deep, rich sound that warmed my entire soul. He reached up, his calloused fingers gently tucking a strand of dark hair behind my ear.
"It was the best mistake you ever made," Marco murmured, his eyes full of a soft, radiant heat. "You saved my mother, you united my family, and you gave me a reason to live for something more than blood and war."
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box.
I raised an eyebrow. "Marco, we're already married."
"We had a wedding dinner surrounded by armed guards and cold business deals," Marco said gently, opening the box to reveal a breathtaking ring—a flawless five-carat emerald-cut diamond set in platinum, shimmering like pure sunlight. "That was for the family. This... this is for us."
He took my left hand, slipping the diamond onto my finger right beside the platinum wedding band.
"Elena Moretti," Marco whispered, dropping to one knee on the sunny terrace, looking up at me with an expression of complete, unreserved surrender. "Will you stay by my side, not because of a blood debt, not because of protection... but because you love me as endlessly as I love you?"
Tears of pure, unadulterated happiness welled in my eyes and spilled over my eyelashes.
I dropped to my knees right beside him on the stone terrace, throwing my arms around his neck, pressing my lips against his in a long, sweet, passionate kiss that tasted of spring and forever.
May you like
"Yes, Marco," I sobbed happily against his lips. "A thousand times yes."
Down by the fountain, Nonna Sophia clapped her hands together warmly, while Dominic Rossi—standing guard near the archway—offered a rare, genuine smile.
