Page 10 of The Don's Eternal Vows

My heart turns to a cold, dead stone.

A gentle hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Don Montagna. She was an angel among us."

I nod mechanically, not really hearing. The world has narrowed to this moment. This casket. This loss.

Genoveva's laughter echoes in my head. Musical notes are now forever silenced. Lazy mornings tangled in sheets. Stolen kisses in shadowed alcoves. Whispered promises. All turned to bitter ashes on my tongue.

Tears prick my eyes. I blink them back furiously. Not here. Not now. I am Gianni Montagna. Genoveva would want me to be strong.

But God, how I want to break apart and scream and rage and tear the world asunder. I’d kill to fill this aching emptiness inside. I’d do anything to have her back.

The casket settles with a dull thud. Final. Irreversible. The chasm in my soul yawns wider. Darker. All-consuming.

I breathe in. Out. Each breath is an effort, and each heartbeat acts as an accusation. You failed her. You couldn't protect her. You let her die.

No more. Paolo Greco will pay with blood. I will have his life for hers. I will burn this entire city to do that if I must. Vengeance will be mine.

I stalk through the front door, my steps heavy, leaden. The house looms before me, cold and empty, devoid of her warmth and laughter. It's not a home anymore—just a mausoleum.

I shrug off my coat, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. What does it matter? What does anything matter now?

I loosen my tie, desperate for air, for relief, for something to ease this crushing weight on my chest.

I climb the stairs, each step an effort. Our bedroom door stands ajar. I pause, hand on the knob. Bracing myself. I push it open.

The room is dark and lifeless. The bed was neatly made, and the pillows were arranged with care. A sob catches in my throat. She should be here, waiting for me and smiling, that secret smile reserved only for me.

I move closer, trailing my fingers over the smooth comforter. I freeze. Something's wrong. The sheets. They're different, not the ones we slept on last.

Not the ones that still hold her scent.

Rage, hot and sharp, slices through the numbness. "MARIA!" I roar, my voice echoing off the walls.

I hear hurried footsteps, and the maid appears, her eyes wide and fearful. "S-Sir?"

I round on her, jaw clenched. "Who changed these sheets?"

She trembles, wringing her hands. "I... I thought... with everything..."

I slam my fist against the wall. She jumps. "I want them back. NOW."

She nods frantically, hurrying away. I pace the room, a caged beast. How dare they? How dare they erase her? Remove any trace that she existed?

Maria returns, arms laden with the familiar bedding. I snatch them from her, dismissing her with a growl. She flees, the door snicking shut behind her.

I strip the bed with jerky, furious movements and remake the bed, smoothing out each wrinkle of the old sheets with obsessive care. There. That's better. I sink onto the mattress, burying my face in her pillow.

I breathe deeply. Seeking her. Jasmine and vanilla. A hint of her perfume. It's faint, but there. Tears burn my eyes. I clutch the pillow tighter.

"Genoveva," I whisper, my voice breaking. "Come back to me, my love. Please. I can't do this without you."

But there's no answer. I’m left with only silence and the crushing truth that she’s gone forever.

Dead.

I sit up, the pillow still clutched to my chest. Frustration boils within me, rising like bile in my throat, and I feel like I need toshoot something or stab someone. Is this all I have left? Fading scents on fabric? Memories that will inevitably blur with time?

No. It's not enough. It will never be enough.

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