Todos os capítulos de The Bride Who Never Was: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

My funeral was held three days later in Queens Cemetery. Next to my mother’s grave, there was now a fresh mound of earth. Very few people came. There were John, a few elderly members of the family, and Dr. Harrison from Mount Sinai Hospital. The coffin was white, and Vincent had it covered in white roses from end to end. He didn’t say a single word the entire time.After the funeral ended, Elena finally arrived. She was dressed in black, her eyes swollen and red.“I’m sorry I’m late.” Her voice was hoarse.Vincent didn’t look at her.Elena stood beside him, staring at my gravestone. My name was carved into it, along with my birth and death dates, and a sentence that read, ‘Vincent Medici is the most important person in this world.’ It was the sentence from the first page of my diary, and Vincent had it engraved there.“You know,” Elena said softly, “she came to see me the night before the wedding.”Vincent finally turned his head.“She came to the bridal shop. That was the las

Vincent returned to the Medici family estate deep into the night. When he pushed open the study door, Vito was sitting in a wheelchair, as if he had been expecting him.“You met Dr. Harrison,” Vito stated.Vincent nodded and sat down across from him. A heavy redwood desk separated them.“What else don’t I know?” Vincent asked.Vito fell silent for a long time. Outside, rain tapped softly against the windows.“Eight years ago, after she agreed to testify against you, I gave her a sum of money. Ten million dollars.”Vincent’s fingers clenched slightly.“She refused it at first. She said she wasn’t doing it for money.” Vito paused before he continued, “Later… she accepted it.”“Why?” “Because she said, when she dies, the money could be left to your child.”Vincent’s eyes widened in shock.“She said you would eventually marry and have children. She didn’t want your child to grow up as she did on the most dangerous streets of Brooklyn. That money… she saw it as a gift from someo

After Elena left, Vincent stayed in the Mexican restaurant for a long time. The owner eventually came over and asked if he wanted anything else. Vincent simply shook his head, left a few bills on the table, and stood up to leave.Outside, New York’s night wind hit him along with flashes of neon light. The streets were crowded, but no one paid attention to the man in the black shirt walking through them. He walked slowly, almost aimlessly, until he found himself at the Brooklyn Bridge. Cars streamed across it nonstop, their headlights shining. On the pedestrian walkway, joggers passed by, and couples stopped occasionally to take photos.Vincent walked to the middle of the bridge, the exact spot where I had once crouched down. He crouched there now, resting his hands on his knees, just like I had done that day. From that angle, the Brooklyn skyline flickered in and out of the night. I had written about this place in my diary.“Today I crouched down on the Brooklyn Bridge for a long ti

In mid-January, Vincent received an email from Mount Sinai Hospital. The sender was Dr. Harrison.“Mr. Vincent, while organizing Miss Christine’s records, I found a video she recorded last year. I had suggested she make it at the time to document the progression of her condition. She stored it in the hospital system and instructed me to deliver it to you after her passing. The video file is attached—Harrison.”The attachment was large. It took Vincent a full ten minutes to download. He sat in his study, the curtains drawn tightly shut. The computer screen was the only source of light in the room.The video began. I was sitting in Dr. Harrison’s office. I wore a gray sweater, my hair tied back, revealing a thin, almost fragile face. My gaze was slightly unfocused, but I was trying my best to look into the camera.“Today is… wait. Let me ask. Dr. Harrison, what’s the date today?”Off camera, Dr. Harrison said, “March 11th.”“March 11th,” I repeated and suddenly smiled. “Today is Ma

It was April, and spring had finally sprung in New York. In Queens Cemetery, the grass had begun to turn green again. A few unnamed wildflowers had grown beside my gravestone, as if they had decided to stay where I once was.Vincent came every afternoon. Sometimes, he brought a book; sometimes, he brought nothing at all, but he would sit by the gravestone for hours. John would sometimes follow him, standing far away at the cemetery gate. From there, he watched Vincent’s silhouette. The man who once made New York’s underworld tremble now spent his days sitting in front of a grave, quietly letting an afternoon pass him by. Sometimes, Vincent would speak to the gravestone. Other times, he just sat in silence, like two stones facing each other.One day, after returning from the cemetery, Vincent called John into the study.“John. Do something for me.”“Whatever you need.”“Sort out all my assets. Everything.”Taken aback, John asked, “Everything?”“Everything. Family shares, real es