Chapter 10 - Three Hundred Invitations
Saturday morning began with a lie.
“Today is the happiest day of my life,” Vivian told reporters.
I watched from a secure room beneath the cathedral.
She stood outside the hotel in white silk, smiling beneath camera flashes.
Damian was already inside the church.
Carlo remained missing.
“Guest count?” I asked.
“Two hundred eighty-seven seated,” Marco said.
“Federal?”
“Thirty-one.”
“Lucia?”
“Secure.”
“Sophie?”
“With her.”
I nodded.
Marco studied me.
“You sure about this?”
“No.”
It was the first honest answer I had given all morning.
At 10:42, Lucia arrived.
Sophie walked beside her.
She wasn't dressed as staff.
Lucia had insisted.
Sophie wore a simple dark-blue dress.
The diamond lily rested near her shoulder.
When I saw her, I forgot what I was saying.
She noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're staring.”
“I know.”
A faint smile.
Then Lucia rolled between us.
“Save it.”
“Mother.”
“We have criminals to arrest.”
Sophie laughed.
I loved the sound.
That realization arrived at a catastrophically inappropriate moment.
I said nothing.
At 10:51, Damian entered the sacristy.
At 10:53, Dr. Cole arrived.
At 10:55, Richard was brought in under federal protection.
At 10:58, Vivian's car reached the cathedral.
Carlo remained invisible.
The ceremony began.
Music filled the nave.
Three hundred people rose.
Vivian appeared.
She was beautiful.
That was simply a fact.
She walked toward me wearing a gown worth more than most homes.
Her father escorted her.
Her eyes shone.
If I hadn't seen the cameras, I might have believed every expression.
She reached the altar.
“You made it,” she whispered.
“I never left.”
Her smile flickered.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The priest began.
We waited through the opening.
Then came the vows.
“Massimo,” Vivian whispered, “I choose you.”
I looked past her.
Lucia sat in the front pew.
Sophie beside her.
Damian watched from my right.
Dr. Cole from the third row.
Agents waited.
I turned back to Vivian.
“I don't.”
Silence.
Vivian blinked.
The cathedral lights dimmed.
A screen descended behind the altar.
“What is this?” she whispered.
The first video played.
Lucia's bedroom.
Vivian's hand.
My mother's face.
The slap echoed through St. Patrick's Cathedral.
Gasps spread through three hundred people.
Vivian turned white.
The next clip showed the medication.
Then the trust documents.
Then Sophie being shoved.
Then Vivian planting the diamond lily.
“No,” Vivian whispered.
Damian moved toward the aisle.
Agents closed it.
The next footage appeared.
Parking garage.
Vivian kissing Damian.
The church erupted.
Vivian looked at him.
“You said those cameras were erased!”
Damian shouted, “Shut up!”
Too late.
Their masks were gone.
I took the microphone.
“You wanted three hundred witnesses at our wedding, Vivian.”
She stared at me.
“So did I.”
The screen showed bank transfers.
Forged papers.
Keane's confession.
Cole's syringes.
My death certificate.
Reporters were already recording.
Vivian's knees weakened.
“You set me up.”
“No.”
I looked at Sophie.
“You did that to her.”
Then a slow clap came from the choir loft.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Everyone looked up.
An older man stepped into view.
Carlo Moretti.
Alive.
May you like
He held a pistol.
And it was pointed directly at Sophie.
