Scene 1: The Silence of the Vow
The ancient cathedral held its breath, the air thick with the scent of lilies and the metallic tang of impending power. Every guest was a wolf in sheep's clothing, gathered to witness the merger of two empires.
Dante Salvatore stood at the altar, immense and ruthlessly controlled in his tuxedo. His golden eyes, those cold, predatory sensors that ruled the city's underworld, were focused on his new bride—a blonde, compliant political pawn walking toward him. Dante was ready to finally close the door on the chaotic history that shadowed his throne.
The priest's voice echoed in the cavernous space: "If anyone here knows of any reason these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."
A moment of pristine silence. Dante felt the tension release from his shoulders. He had won.
Then, the crash.
The massive, carved bronze doors exploded inward, rattling the stained-glass windows and shattering the silence like a dropped diamond.
A woman stood silhouetted against the blinding midday light. She was dressed in a simple, terrifyingly expensive sheath of black silk, a figure of absolute, frozen vengeance. Her emerald eyes, sharp and predatory, were locked only on Dante.
"I know a reason," a voice—cold, clear, and perfectly steady—sliced through the stunned silence. "He's still married to me."
Scene 2: The Ghost's Return
Chaos was a sound, and it was deafening. Whispers, gasps, and the sudden, frantic clicks of security weapons being drawn.
Dante's composure didn't just shatter; it imploded. He stared at the impossible figure.
Elara Ferraro. His first, secret wife. The woman he had personally ensured was eliminated five years ago in a territorial hit. The ghost he had buried.
"Elara," Dante rasped, the name a raw, choked sound of disbelief and desperate recognition. His body felt hot, primal, and his wolf screamed, Mate. "It's a trick. You're dead."
Elara finally moved, stepping into the dim light. She stopped at the edge of the altar, her gaze sweeping dismissively over the terrified blonde bride clinging to Dante's side. She then looked directly at Dante, her mouth curving into a slow, chilling smile of absolute victory.
"Impossible, darling? Not for the woman you rejected." She produced a single, heavily laminated document—the original marriage certificate.
"This marriage remains valid, Dante. I survived your attempt to erase me, and I have returned to claim what is mine: your name, your legitimacy, and every single resource of the Salvatore empire."
Scene 3: The Price of Discarding the Queen
Dante ignored the screams of the abandoned bride and the murmuring crowd. He moved on pure instinct, crossing the space in three predatory strides. He seized Elara's arm in a grip tight enough to leave bruises, pulling her flush against his solid body.
"You faked your own death? You abandoned your marriage and violated the code for five years!" Dante growled, his breath hot against her temple, the raw, primal scent of pine and rage consuming her. "Where have you been hiding?"
Elara leaned into his brutal touch, challenging his dominance. "I was surviving the bullet that was meant for you, Dante. And while I was 'dead,' I was ensuring your bloodline continued without your toxic influence. I returned because your empire needs a Queen to legitimize its future, and I am the only one who fits the bill."
She let the silent, devastating word hang in the air for a perfect, agonizing second before she whispered the single, unbelievable truth into his ear.
The knowledge was a physical blow. Dante stumbled back, his face white, the blood draining from his features. The powerful, immovable Mafia Boss visibly trembled, reeling from the sudden, blinding consequence of a past he had tried to bury.
Scene 4: The Vow of War
Elara didn't wait for his reaction. She stepped back up to the altar, facing the terrified priest and the stunned congregation.
"The wedding is cancelled," Elara announced, her voice resonating with an authority that shocked even Dante. "I am Elara Salvatore. The only wife. I demand the annulment of this fraudulent ceremony, and I demand my full and immediate rights as the legitimate Queen."
She looked at Dante, whose golden eyes were still wide with shock and disbelief.
"You may have wanted to forget the past, Dante," Elara concluded, her voice low and cutting. "But I did not. You threw me away, thinking I was weak. Now, you will learn that my vengeance comes with a price—and that price wears your face. Now, take me home, husband."
She let go of his arm and stood perfectly still, the silent demand for him to obey hanging in the air. The war for the Salvatore empire had just begun, and the victor was the ghost he thought he had escaped.