Chapter 10 - A Garden of White Roses
One year later.
The summer sun shone bright and golden over the south garden of the Duca estate.
Two thousand white roses bloomed once again along the marble paths—not flown in from Ecuador for a cold show of wealth, but planted by hand in the rich Illinois soil by Lorenzo, Sarah, and Sophia over the course of a long, beautiful spring.
Three hundred guests filled the garden.
There were no senators, no mob bosses, no federal judges looking over their shoulders. The chairs were filled with local teachers, neighborhood families, hospital workers from the clinic where Sarah had recovered, and the children from the local orphanage funded by the Marcus Bennett Foundation.
A simple acoustic guitar played a soft, gentle melody near the stone fountain.
Lorenzo stood at the altar beneath a canopy of white roses and green ivy. He wore a sharp black suit, his dark hair neatly styled, his face radiant with an unclouded, profound happiness.
Beside him stood Vincent Russo, serving as his best man, wearing a proud, beaming smile.
Down the white runner came eight-year-old Sophia.
She wore a simple, beautiful white lace dress, holding a small basket filled with rose petals. She didn't run this time. She walked with slow, proud, deliberate steps, tossing petals onto the marble path, her dark eyes shining with joy.
And then came Sarah.
She walked down the aisle alone, holding a bouquet of fresh sunflowers and white roses. Her yellow-gold hair caught the afternoon sun, her smile so bright it seemed to light up the entire garden.
When she reached the altar, Lorenzo stepped down, taking her hand into his own with a gentle, reverent squeeze.
"You take my breath away," Lorenzo whispered.
"You gave me my breath back," Sarah whispered back, her sea-glass eyes shining with tears of joy.
A local pastor stepped forward, opening a simple leather Bible.
"Friends, family, and loved ones," the pastor began, his voice warm and clear in the summer air. "We are gathered here today to celebrate a union born not out of convenience or power, but out of truth, courage, and an undeniable, healing love."
He looked at Lorenzo. "Lorenzo, do you take Sarah to be your wedded wife, to love her, honor her, and protect her through every sunrise and storm?"
Lorenzo looked into Sarah's eyes—the eyes of the woman who had brought light into his dark world.
"I do," Lorenzo said, his voice deep, strong, and vibrating with absolute certainty. "With my whole heart, for all my days."
The pastor looked at Sarah. "Sarah, do you take Lorenzo to be your wedded husband, to hold his hand, share his life, and walk beside him in peace and joy?"
"I do," Sarah said softly, her voice unshakeable. "Forever."
"By the power vested in me," the pastor smiled, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Lorenzo, you may kiss your bride."
Lorenzo didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, wrapped his broad arms around Sarah’s waist, and brought his lips down onto hers in a deep, passionate, life-affirming kiss that drew loud cheers, applause, and whistles from the entire garden.
Sophia ran up, throwing her arms around both of their legs, giggling as Lorenzo reached down with one arm and lifted her up into the hug between them.
Standing on the terrace overlooking the garden, Donna Rosa held a glass of sweet red wine, raising it toward the bright blue sky.
"To Vito," the old woman whispered into the warm breeze. "Your son is free."
Down in the garden, the three of them—husband, wife, and daughter—turned to face their guests.
May you like
The sun shone down on the white roses, warming the earth, illuminating a home that was no longer built on shadows, secrets, or fear.
Hand in hand, Lorenzo, Sarah, and Sophia walked down the white runner together, stepping out of the past and into a bright, infinite, and beautiful future.
