Chapter 10 - The House We Call Forever
Spring returned to Chicago with an explosion of green vines climbing the stone walls of the estate and wildflower meadows blooming across the Lake Geneva shoreline.
The rescue and rehabilitation center was thriving. Dozens of dogs—animals that had been labeled difficult, broken, or dangerous by people who didn't know how to listen—now ran freely across the secure pastures, guided by trainers who understood that patience was always more powerful than force.
On a bright Saturday morning in May, the grand lawn behind the main mansion was filled with white folding chairs, cascading floral arches, and family and staff members laughing over champagne flutes. There were no syndicate bosses, no corrupt politicians, and no bitter socialites. Just the people who mattered—the ones who had stood by us through the fire.
I stood inside the bridal suite of the main house, smoothing down the skirt of my ivory lace gown. It wasn't heavy or restrictive; it was light, elegant, and completely mine.
A heavy tail thumped against the hardwood floor behind me. I turned around to see Bruno sitting patiently by the door, wearing a ridiculously formal black bow tie clipped securely to his wide leather collar.
“You look very handsome, Professor,” I whispered, walking over to scratch him behind the ears.
The door opened gently, and Leo stepped inside, wearing a sharp tuxedo and a rare, genuine grin.
“Car’s ready, Clara,” Leo said, his eyes softening with respect. “And the groom is currently pacing a hole into the grass outside the altar. I think he’s more terrified of you changing your mind than he ever was of Victor Vance.”
I laughed, taking a deep, grounding breath. “Let’s not keep him waiting, then.”
As we walked out through the grand double doors and down the stone steps toward the garden altar, the string quartet began to play a soft, familiar melody.
Standing at the end of the aisle was Matteo. He wore a tailored black tuxedo, his dark hair catching the spring sunlight, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made the rest of the world vanish into a blur.
As I walked toward him, stepping gracefully across the green grass with my head held high, I didn't feel like a maid, a stray, or a survivor.
I felt like a queen.
When I reached the altar, Matteo took my hands in his, his fingers warm and steady.
“You look breathtaking,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
“You clean up all right yourself,” I smiled back.
Beside us, sitting majestically on a velvet cushion, Bruno let out a soft, contented huff as the officiant began to speak.
We didn't need traditional vows about obeying or submitting. We promised to stand as equals, to protect each other’s shadows, and to never let anyone convince us that loving someone meant owning them.
When Matteo slipped the platinum band onto my finger and pulled me into his arms for our first kiss as husband and wife, the applause of our friends and staff echoed across the estate.
May you like
And as Bruno let out a joyful, booming bark that set the robins flying from the oak trees, I knew with absolute certainty: every clumsy step, every ruined bath, and every broken stone had led me exactly to where I was always supposed to be.
Home.
