Chapter 9 - The Gathering of the Guard
The wedding of Vincent Corvino and Tessa Rossi was not held in a grand cathedral or a flashy downtown hotel. It took place on the manicured lawn of the North Shore estate, surrounded by the towering limestone walls that had once been Vincent’s prison, now transformed into a beautiful, sunlit fortress of white roses and green ivy.
Two hundred guests filled the white linen chairs—not politicians or judges bought with cheap bribes, but the actual families of the Chicago underworld. The street vendors from Cicero Avenue sat next to the old-guard captains, their children playing near the stone fountain, their laughter rising through the crisp spring air like a song of victory.
Vincent sat at the front of the pavilion, dressed in a magnificent, custom-tailored three-piece black suit. His wheelchair had been wrapped in soft white silk for the day, his hands resting steady on his knees, his face completely radiant with a peace he hadn't known since his childhood.
When the string quartet began to play the ancient Sicilian processional, the double mahogany doors of the mansion opened.
Tessa walked out into the sun. She wore a simple, elegant gown of heavy ivory satin, her dark hair pinned back with a single strand of pearls that had belonged to Vincent’s mother. She didn't carry a massive bouquet or a long, dramatic veil. She walked with that same proud, steady steel in her spine that had saved Vincent’s life in that dark hospital room.
She walked down the long white carpet alone, her eyes locked onto Vincent’s face, ignoring the whispers of admiration rising from the crowd. She didn't look like a girl from the West Side tenements today; she looked like a queen approaching her altar.
When she reached the front, she didn't wait for the priest to speak. She knelt down beside Vincent’s chair, her hands coming up to cradle his face, her brown eyes shining with a deep, absolute devotion that made the hardened killers in the front row visibly wipe their eyes.
"You look beautiful, Mrs. Corvino," Vincent whispered, his voice trembling slightly with an emotion he couldn't control.
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"I told you once before, Vincent," Tessa whispered back, her lips curved into a bright, beautiful smile as she slid the heavy platinum band onto his finger. "A Corvino doesn't look away from the table. We take our seats."
The roar of applause that followed her words echoed off the limestone walls, filling the valley with a sound of pure, unshakeable triumph that buried the ghosts of Cicero Avenue forever beneath the spring grass.
