When The Don's Pride Crumbled At My Feet 소설 & 이야기

My mother just sat there, slumped in her chair, tears streaming down her face, muttering something under her breath, her pleas unable to stir an ounce of pity in me. And next to her, Rosalie. Her hair was a mess, her eyes vacant. After the series of blows and Edmund's abandonment, her mind had clearly snapped. She was smiling foolishly, waving at the empty air. "I'm the Don... I'm the Don of Vexille... Edmund, come take me home..." My expression was blank. I stood, and surrounded by my guards, turned and walked out of the courtroom without a single backward glance. The heavy doors swung shut, sealing away the chaos, the rage, and the weeping.

The old Don would never allow an accident like me to happen a second time. I smiled and said to him softly, "Old Don, your hand isn't what it used to be." "You've gotten old, I suppose. The power in your grip isn't as tight as before, and there's no weight behind your words anymore." "That doesn't feel good, does it?" I'd left him with nothing to say. He surely hadn't imagined that the girl who once knelt at his feet begging him to save a life was now settled in his own estate, turning the tables on him, and he could do nothing about it.

But today stung different. I sank into the ground and remembered the amazing memories I shared with the Don. Don Morretti’s laugh. His hand on my shoulder when I was nineteen, telling me I was smarter than half the old men at the table. The way he defended me and Muiccia when no one else would. He wasn’t just an ally. He was family. And now he was gone. The image of him bleeding out on the marble floor burned into me. I gripped my glass so tight it cracked in my hand. Glass shards cut into my skin, and I started to bleed but I didn’t care.

“Don Marino, it was Dante’s request to be left alone…” “A request you should have ignored!” he barked. The room grew quiet. “You left my son alone to be killed by a nobody—a worthless death—killed by an old man on the streets of Sicily!” he yelled. “A nobody killed my son. He was going to be Don…” He chuckled dryly, hands shaking, trying to control his anger but failing at it. Everyone watched the Don. He was always a symbol of control and composure—now not so much. They watched as he unraveled before them. He still hadn’t shed a tear.

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.

Don stated the facts. “He is very ill Don." I told him honestly. He laughed harshly and said. “Very convenient for him.” “Don he has! he almost died. You did not see him the way I did, when I walked inside the first day he was white and exhausted he could barely move or speak.” I could hear Don was angry when he said. “He managed to make his deeds clear enough though didn't he? He got you there.” “Don it just for the sake of empathy, I had to visit him.”

The entire estate fell silent. Every guest’s gaze fixed on Vincenzo as he stormed in. He wore a black suit streaked with dust, his hair plastered to his forehead, red veins spreading across bloodshot eyes. In his hand was the misshapen leather bag, battered and worn, making him look utterly defeated. It was an image unrecognizable compared to the once‑imperious Don Corleone. “Vincenzo, you dare make a scene at Ella’s engagement?”

The silence was worse than the gunfire had been. I stood at the shattered bar cart, surrounded by broken crystal and the metallic tang of spent ammunition, and listened to the penthouse breathe. Dante's men moved in quiet currents around me—sweeping glass, securing the hallway, dragging the last of Enzo's failed assault team toward the service elevator. No one spoke to me. No one looked at me directly. I was the Don's woman, and the Don was gone, and that made me something between royalty and a widow in waiting.

I stood over the dead man, breathing hard, covered in blood, barely standing. I turned to The Don. “I won. I walk free.” The Don smiled. “No.” A gun clicked. I froze. The Don aimed the barrel straight at my chest. I clenched my fists. “We had a deal.” He smirked. “I changed my mind.” Fucking bastard. I lifted my chin, masking the exhaustion, the pain, the fury. “I expected better from you, old man. I thought you had principles.” The Don’s smile faded.

He scoffed lightly, and the sound felt like a sharp ice pick striking against my bones. "Of course! Fiore graduated from a Privy League university. She's completely different from Eliana, who came from the slums. Eliana only agreed to be with me three years ago because I was the Don. It's her own fault and greed that she ended up like this in the end." Tears blurred my vision so much that I couldn't see anymore. I leaned back against the icy-cold walls and clapped a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from making any sound at all.