Chapter 9 - Standard of Protection
Six months later, the private cliffside chapel overlooking the Mediterranean coast was decorated with white roses, eucalyptus, and golden candlelight. The storm clouds that had defined so much of our past were gone, replaced by a brilliant, sapphire-blue summer afternoon.
Victor stood at the altar, surrounded by his brothers and close friends. When the heavy carved wooden doors opened, the wedding march began to play. I walked down the aisle on the arm of a close family friend, wearing an ethereal gown of French lace with a long trailing veil.
Walking ahead of me were the four boys and Lucia. Marco and Nico stood tall as Victor's co-best men, while Alessandro and Matteo proudly walked hand-in-hand with little Lucia, who served as the flower girl, streaking white rose petals across the marble floor.
When I reached Victor, he took my hands in his. His eyes were shining with unshed tears—a sight that few people in the world would ever believe the formidable Victor Rinaldi was capable of showing.
"I, Victor Rinaldi," he spoke, his voice deep, firm, and ringing with absolute devotion, "take you, Serena Valente, to be my wife, my partner, and my equal. I promise to love you, honor you, and protect you and our children with every breath I draw, through every storm and every triumph."
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"I, Serena Valente," I replied, holding his gaze, "take you, Victor Rinaldi, to be my husband, my love, and my home. I promise to stand by your side, to nurture our family, and to love you unconditionally for all the days of my life."
When the priest pronounced us husband and wife, Victor pulled me into his arms and kissed me with a passionate, fierce devotion that drew joyous cheers from our family and friends. As we turned to face our guests, our five children rushed forward, throwing their arms around us in a group hug right at the altar, laughing and cheering.
