Chapter 9

Dante Fazio POV

The cathedral was a sea of faces.

Five hundred guests packed the pews. The heads of the Five Families. Corrupt politicians. Judges bought and paid for. The air smelled of expensive lilies and the stale, heavy scent of old money.

I stood at the altar. My tuxedo was tailored to immaculate perfection. I felt like a king.

I had done it. I had secured the alliance. I had kept Mia quiet with a diamond bracelet and a promise of a penthouse in Manhattan. And I had Elena, the perfect, dutiful wife who believed my lies.

I checked my watch. She was running five minutes late.

Traditional, I thought.

My best man, Luca, leaned in. "You look nervous, boss."

"I'm not nervous," I said, adjusting my cuffs. "I'm victorious."

Then I saw movement in the side aisle.

Mia was there. She was draped in a black dress and a veil, as if she were attending a funeral rather than a coronation.

I felt a spike of adrenaline. Security was supposed to keep her out.

She caught my eye. She mouthed the word: _Please._

I looked away. I hardened my heart. She was a distraction. Elena was the prize.

The organ music swelled. The heavy oak doors at the back of the church groaned open.

I straightened my tie. I put on my smile.

The guests stood up. They turned to look.

But the aisle was empty.

The music played on, filling the void. The flower girls had already scattered their petals. They sat on the steps, looking confused and fidgeting with their baskets.

Ten minutes passed.

The murmurs started. A low hum of whispers that sounded like insects buzzing in a hive.

I looked at Elena's father in the front row. Don Vitiello was not looking at the door. He was looking at me. His face was granite.

He knew.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, ignoring the priest's scandalized glare.

I dialed Elena.

Straight to voicemail.

I dialed her mother. Blocked.

I looked at Luca. "Go check the dressing room."

Luca ran. He came back two minutes later. He looked pale.

"It's empty, Dante. There's no dress. No makeup. Nothing."

The realization hit me like a bullet to the chest.

She wasn't late.

She wasn't coming.

I stood there, alone at the altar, while five hundred people watched the Golden Boy of the Fazio family turn into a punchline.

The silence in the cathedral was louder than any scream.