I lowered my eyes, fingers tightening around the document in my palm. It bore the Corleone seal pressed in crimson wax—a serpent coiled around a dagger. This was no ordinary formality, but the final confirmation required before the union ceremony. A ritual of loyalty and binding that predated the modern world, rooted in the old ways brought over from Sicily. Once completed, my name would be fully written into his world. My blood would belong to his Family.
The line moved forward slowly. The corridor smelled of disinfectant mixed with herbs—rosemary for remembrance, sage for purification. Some people whispered prayers under their breath. Others nervously rubbed their knuckles, their eyes fixed on the doors ahead. When it was my turn, an assistant in a white coat led me into a cool-toned room where metal instruments gleamed under the lights like sleeping weapons.
Giorgio's fingers brushed my wrist, the pressure exact and deliberate, reminding me he was behind me. It was a signal, not comfort. A reminder of ownership.