The coast house looked different in the golden late afternoon light. Wildflowers were threaded through the porch railings exactly as Isabella had promised, and a small arrangement of chairs was set facing the water for the handful of guests who actually mattered. Her father, Dante's remaining trusted family, Marco, and Enzo stood together near the back while Isabella fussed with the final details of Elena's simple, flowing dress.
"You look stunning," Isabella said, adjusting the fabric gently over the unmistakable curve of Elena's stomach. "Not like the first wedding. This one actually looks like you."
"It feels like me," Elena said, studying herself in the mirror. She wore soft ivory instead of the stiff formal gown from before, her hair loose and simple, with wildflowers woven through
