My Cold Heart: Rejecting The Mafia Boss

Vitiel

ith relentless weight. I was on my knees in the dirt, sweat d

anting the

s set up around her, lights and reflectors catching the glint of her jewelry. She was filming a "Day in th

, tilting her chin just so. She pointed a manicured finger at me. "See? We even g

e help." On camera. Fo

king his phone, probably managing the fallout, ensuring the narrative was con

o the earth. I imagin

r voice sugary sweet. "You look so d

d on the rhythm. Dig. Plan

ng a rhythm

a went inside to change for the memorial. Dante lingered. He w

is voice devoid of warmth.

the back of my hand, smearing grime across my skin. "It

id. "Go get cleaned up. Wear

elry?"

rivilege of diamonds toda

ned from. I locked the door with a decisive click. I lo

t there, heavy and mocking. A symbol of his o

ok i

the harsh bathroom light. It was worth half a

ped it

ortex taking the last piece of Dante Russ

g the day's humiliation from my body. I put on the pla

st wing. This was Dante's sanctuary. His prize-winning orchids. He loved them

blooming in vibrant purples and

ch from the cleaning cart. T

poured the bleach into the water reservoir

dying, Dante,

he misting

led over the delicate petals, coating them in a

looked at my bare hand, at the pale strip of skin where the ring had been. His jaw tigh

d the do

go,"

wasn't afraid anymore. I was jus