The terrifying part wasn’t the marriage. It was that Dominic already knew something about me before the first shot was fired, a secret he believed could destroy us both if I ever learned the truth.

One year later.

The summer sun shone bright over the private cliffside gardens of the Rossi estate. The scent of blooming white roses filled the fresh ocean breeze, and the sounds of classical violin music floated across the manicured lawn.

Under a massive floral archway facing the Atlantic Ocean stood my mother, Ellen. She wore a stunning lavender silk dress, her face radiant with health, her heart fully healed. Beside her sat Isabella Rossi, smiling tearfully as she held a handkerchief.

I stood at the top of the white aisle in a breathtaking lace wedding gown that trailed across the grass.

Walking toward me from the altar was Dominic. He wore a crisp black tuxedo, looking impossibly handsome, his dark eyes locked onto mine with a warmth and devotion that wiped away every dark memory of the past.

We hadn't come to an ICU room this time. There were no armed guards at our sides, no monitors beeping, no blood on our clothes.

When I reached his side, Dominic took both of my hands into his.

Father Callahan stood before us, smiling warmly under the bright afternoon sun. "Dominic Rossi, do you take Clara to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, until death do you part?"

Dominic looked down into my eyes, his fingers gently tracing the golden band he had placed on my finger a year ago.

"I took her when she was broken," Dominic said softly, his voice thick with deep emotion. "I take her now as my heart, my soul, and my queen. Forever."

"And do you, Clara Vance Rossi, take Dominic to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

I smiled, tears of pure happiness slipping down my cheeks as I looked at the man who had fought through hell to give me a life.

"I do," I answered softly. "With all my heart."

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife," Father Callahan blessed us. "You may kiss the bride."

Dominic wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me slightly off my feet, and pulled me into a deep, passionate kiss as our family and friends burst into joyous applause.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the ocean, Dominic and I stood together on the private balcony overlooking the estate.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin gently on my shoulder, his warm hands resting over mine against the balcony railing.

"What are you thinking about, Mrs. Rossi?" Dominic whispered into my ear, kissing my neck softly.

I leaned back against his chest, looking down at the heavy diamond ring he had added beside my gold band—a symbol of a real, chosen, unconditional love.

"I’m thinking about a girl who used to work three shifts a day just to pay rent," I smiled softly, turning in his arms to wrap my hands around his neck. "A girl who thought her life was over when seven bullets tore through her body."

Dominic looked down at me, his eyes filled with fierce, dark affection. "And now?"