Everyone Said the Mafia Boss Was Too Old for Romance—Until I Proved Them Wrong

Six months later.

May arrived in Manhattan, bringing warm sunshine, clear blue skies, and the rich bloom of cherry blossoms across Central Park.

The courtyard of the historic St. Patrick's Cathedral was filled with soft music, elegant white roses, and guests dressed in high-end formal wear.

My mother, Sarah, stood near the front row of white chairs, looking radiant, healthy, and full of life in a dust-rose gown, laughing as she spoke with Dr. Cheryl Vance.

Beside the altar stood Salvatore Constantino.

He wore a tailored dark navy tuxedo that emphasized his broad shoulders and commanding posture. His silver hair caught the afternoon sun, and his pale gray eyes were fixed entirely on the archway at the end of the stone aisle.

The brass doors of the cathedral opened.

I walked down the aisle, holding a bouquet of rare yellow and white roses. My wedding dress was a masterpiece of French lace and ivory silk, cascading softly around my feet as I walked toward the man who had rewritten my destiny.

Beside Salvatore stood Marco, his loyal lieutenant, who grinned warmly as I approached.

When I reached the altar, Salvatore took my hand in his. His large, calloused fingers were warm, steady, and filled with a deep, unbreakable strength.

"You are breathtaking, my love," Salvatore whispered, his voice rich with emotion.

"And you are late," I smirked softly, leaning in close. "You almost made me think you got cold feet."

"An old man doesn't run from his greatest blessing," Salvatore smiled—a genuine, brilliant smile that transformed his severe features into pure, radiant warmth.

The priest began the ceremony, his words echoing off the ancient vaulted ceilings of the cathedral.

When it came time for the vows, Salvatore turned to face me fully, slipping a breathtaking platinum band adorned with emerald-cut diamonds onto my ring finger.

"Lily," Salvatore spoke, his voice clear and resonant, carrying across the silent cathedral. "Twenty-three years ago, I believed my heart was buried forever in a quiet grave. I believed my life was meant to be lived in cold shadows and endless wars. Then you walked into my world with a pitcher of water, a twisted ankle, and a spirit that refused to be broken."

He raised my hand, gently pressing his lips against the inside of my wrist.

"You healed my soul, Lily," Salvatore whispered, his gray eyes shining with tears of joy. "You brought light into my fortress, hope into my heart, and life into my future. I promise to honor you, protect you, and love you until my final breath."

I slipped a matching platinum band onto his finger, locking my eyes with his.

"Salvatore," I said, my voice steady and filled with absolute devotion. "Everyone told me you were too dangerous, too cold, and too old for romance. But you proved them all wrong. You showed me what true love, protection, and devotion really mean. My heart, my life, and my future are yours, forever."

"By the power vested in me," the priest announced with a warm smile, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Salvatore didn't hesitate. He pulled me into his arms, dipping me slightly as he pressed his lips against mine in a deep, joyful, eternal kiss that drew thunderous applause and cheers from our family and friends.