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I married Dante Costello at St. Patrick's Cathedral.
I wore the two-hundred-thousand-dollar gown and a family heirloom diamond tiara as I walked down the long, red-carpeted aisle on my father’s trembling arm.
The pews were filled with politicians, businessmen, mafia bosses, and Hollywood stars, their eyes on me like searchlights.
Dante stood at the altar in a custom black tuxedo, his posture as straight and strong as a pine tree. When I reached him, he took my hand, and I felt my father visibly relax.
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