The Night I Saw My Don Burn นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"Or this alliance becomes very simple. The Morettis versus the Santoros. Winner takes all." Sofia spoke up. "Everyone calm down. Alessandro, do you actually have this recording?" "Yes." He pressed play. Nico's voice filled the room, drunk and boastful: "You should have seen them burn, little brother. The Moretti daughters screaming for their father. The mother trying to save them. It was beautiful. Power in its purest form." The recording continued for another minute. Nico describing details, laughing about the fire, admitting everything. When it ended, the room erupted.

Names. “You think this is connected to tonight,” I said. “I know it is.” He was definitely certain. My stomach tied itself in knots. “Talk to me.” Darius flipped to a page near the back, marked with a red tab. “There were three cameras down tonight,” he said. “Not malfunctioning, they were disabled. The third camera at the east-wing was down at 21:14. Back online at 21: 30” My mind moved quickly, slotting pieces into place. “That’s the time Frank left.”

So you're going to start acting like it. Something inside me snaps and I start laughing loud like a maniac. ‘This is insane,’ I say, wiping at my face from the tears that are stinging behind my eyes. ‘You’re insane. This whole thing is insane.’ Dante watches me and instantly, he is in front of me, grabbing my neck. ‘Get used to insane, doll. It’s your new life.’

Luckily, I survived. At the very last moment before the explosion, a passing truck driver risked his life, smashed the window, and dragged me out. Behind me, flames shot into the sky. In that instant, something inside me went completely still. I was burned clean. … I woke up in the ICU with multiple fractures across my body, a mild concussion, and severe burns on my thigh. Andrea didn't show up until three days later. She carried a basket of fruit, the cheap kind sold outside hospitals. Inside were two strawberries. Still strawberries.

He said as he walked towards the door. "And I am Carlos, why don't you sleep food will be brought to you soon" he said and walked out the door, she felt light headed all of a sudden and knew something was it the water he gave her. A shaky exhale escaped her. Her stomach turned. The room began to blur. She swayed, blackness tugged on her subconscious, and then it dragged her all the way under. Later in the Don's office Carlos walked in and saw Marco busy with some work as usual, his friend was such a workaholic, he thought. He did not look up when Carlos entered so he sat down at the edge of Marco's table and said.

She’s my echo—faint, cracked, forgettable. And still, he comes back. Wilbet always does. When she’s asleep. When he’s drunk. When he wants to remember what real fire felt like. He always finds his way back to me. And I let him. Not because I still love him. That part died quietly years ago. No,I let him crawl back because I like the view from up here. Watching him fall. But lately, he’s been distracted. Unsettled. I can feel it in the pauses between his words, the way his hands shake after meetings, like something’s slipping through his fingers.

"You're his wife. You were pregnant and bleeding in the ruins, and they secured the weapons first? If I hadn't brought you here immediately, you wouldn't have just lost the baby. You would be dead. Where is he now? Does he not care at all?" "He's probably with Monica," I answered in a low voice. The doctor fell silent. Naked pity filled his eyes. Even he understood the line Enzo and Monica had crossed. I asked to be left alone. After the door closed, I reached for my phone. The underworld had already begun to stir. The title of Don came bundled with blood, power, and gossip. The first rumors surfaced on dark web forums. Footage showed me collapsing in the armory, soaked in blood. Clips from

The door shut completely behind me, sealing off the home I'd given years to, but which had never once felt warm. Outside, the night was deep and dark. The cold wind cut against my face with a biting chill, but it couldn't compare to the pain of those days in the hospitals or what Lucia's posts put me through. I hailed a taxi and gave the driver the name of a hotel. The car pulled away from the curb, and as I watched the city lights blur past the window, I exhaled softly. My devotion to Marco ended here. From now on, I'd live only for myself.

I just watched. And burned.

The burning consumes me, the edges of my vision going black. 'Xavi-'