Chapter 9 - The Queen of Manhattan
One year later.
The summer sun streamed brilliant gold over the private manicured lawns of the Vale Estate in Long Island. The scent of blooming white roses and ocean breeze filled the air, carrying the joyful sounds of a hundred laughing guests across the stone terrace.
It was our wedding day.
There were no mobsters in dark suits threatening people, no hidden ledgers, and no stolen millions.
At the front of the floral archway stood Dominic.
He looked impossibly handsome in a sharp white dinner jacket and black trousers, his broad shoulders relaxed, a proud, radiant smile on his face that had long since replaced his cold, intimidating scowl. Beside him stood Gabe, wearing a surprisingly well-tailored suit, looking like a proud uncle.
The string quartet began to play a soft, breathtaking melody.
At the top of the stone steps, five-year-old Noah stepped out. He was dressed in a mini tuxedo that matched Dominic’s perfectly, carrying a plush velvet ring pillow. His light-up dinosaur shoes—which he had stubbornly insisted on wearing with his tuxedo—squeaked cheerfully with every step down the aisle.
Behind him came me.
I wore an exquisite, custom-designed ivory satin gown that hugged every single one of my curves in breathtaking perfection, flowing into a dramatic ten-foot train. A veil of French lace trailed behind me, and around my neck rested a simple gold locket containing a picture of Noah, Dominic, and me on our first trip to the beach.
I didn't look down. I didn't hide my body. I walked down that aisle with my head held high, a confident, powerful woman who was not only marrying the love of her life, but who had spent the last year running Vale Logistics as its official Chief Executive Officer.
Under my leadership, the company had gone 100% legitimate, expanding into green shipping technologies and becoming one of the highest-rated employers in the tri-state area.
When I reached the altar, Dominic stepped forward and took my hands into his. His touch was warm, steady, and filled with endless love.
“You take my breath away, Mrs. Vale,” Dominic whispered, his eyes shining.
“You don't look so bad yourself, Mr. Vale,” I murmured back.
The minister smiled warmly at the crowd. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”
Noah stepped up, puffing out his little chest proudly. “I do! But he has to promise to still take me to the natural history museum on Saturdays!”
The entire gathering erupted into warm, joyful laughter.
Dominic leaned down, giving Noah a fist bump. “Deal, kiddo.”
We exchanged our vows—not written by lawyers or dictated by contracts, but spoken from the depths of our souls, promising loyalty, protection, transparency, and unconditional love for the rest of our days.
“By the power vested in me,” the minister declared, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Dominic, you may kiss your queen.”
Dominic didn't hesitate. He pulled me into his arms, dipping me back elegantly as his lips met mine in a deep, passionate kiss that sealed our promise forever. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, cheers, and whistles.
Late that night, as the moon hung full and bright over the Atlantic Ocean, Dominic and I stood together on the master suite balcony overlooking the dark, rolling waves.
I leaned back against his broad, warm chest, his powerful arms wrapped securely around my waist, holding me close against the cool ocean breeze.
“What are you thinking about, my queen?” Dominic whispered into my hair, resting his chin on my shoulder.
I looked down at the band of diamonds glittering on my left ring finger, then looked out at the peaceful horizon.
“I was just thinking about the Hudson Room,” I admitted, smiling softly. “About a tired, chubby mom who walked into a room full of criminals, saw blood on a chair, and asked New York’s most feared man if she could sit down.”
Dominic chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated straight through my back. He turned me around in his arms, cupping my cheek and looking into my eyes with infinite tenderness.
“And asking for that chair,” Dominic murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my lips, “was the best decision any Mercer ever made.”
“Vale,” I corrected him softly, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Abigail Vale.”
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Dominic’s eyes softened into complete, unvarnished warmth as he pulled me tight against his heart.
“Abigail Vale,” he repeated, holding me under the starlight—a king and his queen, bound together forever in an unbreakable, magnificent love.
