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Too Late For The Mafia Don's Regret

Chapter 6 

Word Count: 766    |    Released on: 25/12/2025

Ross

that hospital

f antiseptic. Seven days of watching the door, wai

didn't

d of his own reflection, arrived on day three. He carried a

lacing the vase on the bedside table with trembling

asted like copper on my tongue. "I

adjusted his glasses and fled

ilies. Stark whit

alled out, m

n blue scrubs p

And the fruit basket. And th

sure, Mrs

in this room that I d

an to buzz. Anonymous num

wheelchair through a private park, despite the fact she

l image was simple: *Re

it. I needed the evidence to cauterize th

ide the hospital entrance. I had called the car service myself. The Family

t was a Family car, but not Dante'

or for me. I climbed in, wincing as m

. It felt less like a home and more

ng with every step. I needed painkillers, but I r

aw light spilling from the

drift

, Boss. You've been

as M

hick with whiskey and exhaustion. "She

arco said. His voice was quiet, respec

use. The clink of gl

"She's built for this life. Her f

ante. She took a bu

ood, making me flinch. "I know what she is. She is duty.

od woman," M

wall, closing my ey

m, replaced by a bleak, drunken honesty. "She does everything r

orless sound that scrap

can respect a monument. But you don't fuc

sound of liq

dropping to a harsh whisper that carried thr

diamond on my finger felt heavy,

just didn't see me as a living, breathing creature.

l. I didn't enter the libr

the guest room I had bee

ledger lyin

us t

-five

he number. It

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Too Late For The Mafia Don's Regret
Too Late For The Mafia Don's Regret
“I kept a ledger to track my marriage to the most feared man in Chicago. Loyalty started at one hundred. Every time Dante looked through me to stare at his mistress, Isabella, I subtracted one. Every time he left our bed to answer her calls, I subtracted five. The day the score hit zero, I was lying in a secret clinic, bleeding out. I had been in a severe accident. I was pregnant, and the hemorrhage was critical. But the nurse, eyes red with weeping, told me they couldn't give me the blood transfusion I needed. Dante had ordered the clinic's entire supply of O-negative blood to be reserved for Isabella. She had a bruised knee and was "in shock." He prioritized her comfort over his unborn child's life. I lost the baby. I left the ledger on his desk with a final note: *You bought her comfort with your heir's blood. Score: 0.* Then, I vanished. Two years later, Dante found me at a gala in Seattle. The ruthless Capo dei Capi, a man who never bowed to anyone, fell to his knees in front of hundreds of people. He begged, tears streaming down his face, claiming he had made a mistake, that I was his only true love. I looked at him, then at Julian, the man standing beside me who treated me like a queen. I pulled my hand away from Dante's grip and smiled coldly. "Apologies don't fix dead things, Mr. Moretti. Go back to your grave."”