The Mafia Don Killed My Groom Then Buried Me Alive Chapter 08
Burn It Down
The West Wing.
Every doctor Adrian owns is in that room.
Every underground surgeon on his payroll, every ER guy he’s blackmailed, every specialist he’s ever paid off.
All of them, sweating.
Adrian stands outside the door.
Doesn’t move.
Doesn’t sit.
Doesn’t drink.
Behind him — Selene and her friends, huddled in a corner, shaking.
The oldest doctor comes out.
Bows his head.
“Don Vitale… I’m sorry.
She’s gone.
There’s nothing—”
Adrian kicks him in the chest.
The old man hits the floor.
“She’s the Doctor’s only female apprentice.
You think she dies from THIS?
From some spoiled brat and a knife?”
“I promised her forever.
She doesn’t get to die.”
“If she stays dead, every one of you goes in the ground with her.”
The old doctor scrambles up and staggers back into the room.
Selene’s friends whisper behind her, panicked.
“Selene… he dug up her grave.
He’s calling every doctor in the state.
This is bad.”
“Who the hell IS she?”
“He wouldn’t hurt US over some rat, right?
Right?”
Selene lifts her chin.
Puts her innocent little act back on.
“Relax.
Adrian’s obsessed with me.
He wouldn’t lay a finger on me.”
“She’s just some side piece he’s been hiding in there.
He’s throwing a tantrum.
I’ll kiss it out of him.”
The socialites breathe again.
“Yeah, look.
He shot a guard, slapped a doctor — but he hasn’t said one mean word to Selene.”
“That’s real love, girl.”
“That rat’s not worth Selene’s pinky.”
Emboldened, Selene fixes her lipstick and glides up to Adrian, doing her hurt-baby voice.
“Baby.
That skank was messing with our heads.
She said she was your wife.
She said I was HER replacement.
I only had her handled because I was scared of losing you.”
“You’re not mad at me, right?”
Adrian turns his head.
Looks at her.
His eyes are empty.
He lifts his hand.
Slowly.
Cups her cheek.
“There’s something I forgot to tell you, sweetheart.”
His thumb strokes her skin.
“Nina is the love of my life.
Nina is my wife.”
Selene stops breathing.
She stumbles back like he punched her.
Face gray.
Her friends drop to their knees so fast their designer heels crack.
“Don Vitale, we didn’t KNOW she was Mrs.
Vitale — we swear —”
“It was Selene!
Selene made us do it!”
“Selene shaved her!
Selene cut her tongue!
Selene ordered the guards on her!
It was ALL Selene!”
“Please, we’re innocent, we’re INNOCENT —”
Selene whirls on them, spitting mad.
“YOU BITCHES!
You were laughing your asses off while we did it!
Now you throw ME under the bus?!”
“You were BORN to be dogs, all of you!”
They snap right back.
“Oh, please.
And what are YOU, huh?”
“You thought you were his chosen woman?
You’re a KNOCKOFF.”
“You only got in the door because you had her face!
You skated on Mrs.
Vitale’s shadow, and you BEAT her to death!
You wanna talk about who deserves to die?!”
They’re screaming at each other.
Ripping into each other.
Neither of them notices Adrian’s eyes.
His eyes have gone hard.
Not angry.
Cold as blood.
They work on me all night.
Adrian doesn’t move from that door.
Not for water.
Not for a chair.
Not for a breath.
Dawn.
The door creaks open.
The doctors freeze in the doorway.
Because Adrian is standing there like a man who looks ready to kill — his suit soaked in blood, his face carved out of stone, his eyes hard and empty.
At his feet: Selene.
Her friends.
Every socialite, every thug, every guard who touched me.
Piled up like garbage.
Their faces frozen mid-scream.
The doctors drop to their knees.
“Don Vitale — please — we tried — she’s really gone —”
“We couldn’t save her — please —”
Adrian doesn’t look at them.
He walks past them like they aren’t even there.
Into my room.
“Kill them all.”
His men move.
Every doctor drops, blood spreading across the floor beneath them.
Adrian walks to my bed.
Sits down beside me.
Runs his knuckle down my cold cheek.
Gentle.
Like he’s touching something priceless.
Then he kicks over the candle by my bed.
The rug catches.
Then the curtains.
Then everything.
He looks down at me.
Smiles.
“I told you, Nina.
I’d protect you forever.”
“Wherever you go, I’m coming with you.”
He pulls a knife across his own throat.
The fire eats the wing.
Outside, guards scream.
Some freeze.
Some run for water.
Some charge in to save him.
From inside, a shout goes up over the roar of the flames:
“THE DON IS DEAD!
DON VITALE IS DEAD!”
The whole compound drops to their knees.
Wailing echoes off every wall.
And me?
I walk out of the flames.
Slow.
Free.
Smiling.
The trick my mentor taught me — the drug that mimics death, that slows the heart to nothing, that fools every doctor alive.
Turns out, it works.