Chapter 7 - The Grand Cathedral
Morning arrived under a dark, bruised sky. Rain poured down in sheets over Manhattan, reflecting the neon lights of Fifth Avenue.
St. Patrick’s Cathedral was packed to capacity. Over eight hundred powerful figures filled the mahogany pews. Police escorts blocked off the surrounding streets.
At 10:45 AM, Nora rolled Elena’s wheelchair down the center aisle. Elena wore a dignified navy silk dress, her gray hair pinned neatly, her face pale but composed.
Celeste’s private guards tried to intercept them near the entry, but Nora held her ground, pushing the chair straight to the front row—the bride's side—just as Luca had instructed.
"You don't belong down here, housekeeper," whispered Julian Beaumont, stepping out from his front-row pew, his voice venomous. "Take her to the back."
"Mr. Ventresca’s personal instructions were clear," Nora said firmly, her voice echoing off the vaulted stone arches. "His mother sits in the front row."
Julian narrowed his eyes, but before he could cause a scene, the grand pipe organ erupted into the opening chords of the bridal march.
The massive brass doors at the rear of the cathedral swung open.
Celeste Beaumont appeared, bathed in light. She wore a custom two-hundred-thousand-dollar Italian lace gown with a ten-foot train, holding a bouquet of white orchids. Her face was a mask of flawless, radiant triumph.
May you like
She began her slow walk down the aisle, her eyes locked on the altar.
She was seconds away from claiming the throne.
