He's her enemy. Her obsession. And the only man who has the power to destroy her.
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My name is Frank Monroe, and I am the most dangerous woman in Chicago. Not because I kill, but because I make it legal. I'm the lawyer the Irish mob calls when...
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They call it "The Big Day."
But what exactly earns a day that title?
Is it the grandeur of the event, the promises made, or the weight of tradition pressing against the air?
For me, it was never about the ceremony itself, nor was marriage something I had spent my life chasing as the pinnacle of success. But standing here, on this day, surrounded by the people I loved, knowing that I was about to start this next chapter with Hector, was a feeling beyond measure. And I just knew this was right.
Noah was here. Dad was here. Benedict was here. Every person who had shaped me, anchored me, reminded me of who I was stood witness to this moment. Everyone, that is... except Jamie.
Lately, we had begun talking more, so much more, in fact, than we had in the entire decade before. The rift between us had shrunk to a bridge small enough to cross with a single step. That simple truth gave my heart some peace. Still, part of me ached for him to be here. I wanted him to witness this moment, to be a part of it. I wanted him to meet Benedict and see in my son's eyes the same family bond that connected us.
I had even taken the invitation to his wife myself, wishing that Jamie might come.
A soft knock at the door drew me back from my spiraling thoughts. I set the makeup brush aside, already certain of who stood on the other side.
"Come in," I called.
The door eased open, and there he was—Benedict. My little gentleman, dressed in a light gray tuxedo sharp enough for a magazine cover, a perfectly tied black bowtie sitting crisp against his white collar. His jet-black hair was neatly slicked to the side, no doubt with meticulous care. A big, bright smile on his face, filled with nothing but love made my heart squeeze.
"Too much?" I teased, giving a playful spin in my wedding dress as I waited for his verdict.
His head shook with slow, wide-eyed wonder. "You look so beautiful, Frankie."
I lowered myself into the chair, reached for his small hands, and pulled him close until I wrapped him in a hug that I never wanted to end. "No one could ever outshine you," I whispered against his dark hair, holding him a little tighter, my heart aching in that good, too-full way.
He pulled back just enough for me to see the faint pink spreading across his cheeks. "It was Hector," he admitted in a small voice. "He helped me with the suit. And Uncle Sawyer did my hair... but he said not to call him Uncle Sawyer."
A laugh bubbled out of me, real and full. "You're growing on him."
Benedict chuckled, his little shoulders bouncing. "I thought so too."
He turned to leave, but as he did, his elbow clipped the perfume bottle perched on the dresser. It toppled, hit the floor, and exploded, glass shattering into a hundred tiny shards while the sharp, sweet scent of jasmine rushed through the air.
