Chapter 13 - The Wedding Day
The crisp autumn sun rose over Bellweather on a Saturday morning that felt less like a wedding and more like a royal coronation. The historic textile mill and the cliffside gardens were packed with an eclectic mix of guests: local independent artisans, municipal leaders, federal judges, and a very well-behaved security detail wearing boutonnières pinned to their lapels. Molly Reyes stood by Clara’s side in the bridal suite, dabbing away happy tears with a lace handkerchief as Clara smoothed down the final layer of her custom ivory gown. The dress fit like a second skin, accentuating her figure with breathtaking grace, the repaired lace detail from their very first explosive meeting subtly woven into the lining as a quiet reminder of where their journey began. "You look like an absolute goddess, Clara," Molly sobbed happily. "If Adrian doesn't cry when you walk down that aisle, I’m personally kicking him out of the wedding." Clara laughed, pinning a delicate veil into her dark curls. Down in the garden, the string quartet struck up a sweeping classical arrangement as the guests turned toward the floral-lined aisle. Adrian DeLuca stood at the altar waiting, dressed in a sharp, custom-tailored black tuxedo that mirrored his effortless authority. But as the heavy oak doors opened and Clara stepped out into the sunlight, the formidable crime boss’s breath hitched completely. His grey eyes widened, shining with unadulterated awe and tearful reverence as he watched the woman who had tamed his dark heart walk steadily toward him.
