The Mafia Don’s Graveyard Bride Chapter 02
The driver Adrian sent arrived at the cemetery and saw me covered in dirt. He was puzzled but didn’t dare ask questions.
Soon I was brought back to the Moretti family’s private medical center. My therapist, Dr. Eleanor Vance, was already waiting.
“Willa, you went to see the baby today. Are you feeling better?”
Dr. Vance’s voice was warm and professional.
I smiled gently. “After seven years of waiting, I finally got to see my child again. I’m much better.”
When Dr. Vance prepared to conduct the routine trauma assessment, I quietly stopped her.
“I’m really okay now. You don’t need to run those assessments anymore.”
I tried to make my smile look bright and unburdened.
“After seeing my baby, everything clicked into place. I was drowning in grief all this time, putting so much pressure on Adrian.”
“People need to look forward. From now on, I’ll live a good life with him. I won’t be his burden anymore.”
The moment those words left my mouth, Adrian’s cold voice came from behind me.
“Willa! Who gave you permission to use that word again!”
He strode in, his face rigid, his eyes full of barely contained fury.
“Seven years ago, when you tried to kill yourself, that was the word you used most.”
He despised hearing me diminish myself like that. He turned to Dr. Vance immediately. “Ignore what she says. Continue treatment as usual.”
Faced with his iron authority, I kept smiling—calm and mild.
In the end, I obediently submitted to Dr. Vance’s treatment.
This session went remarkably smoothly.
I felt as though I’d fallen into a deep, endless sleep, my consciousness drifting in boundless darkness.
Through the haze, I vaguely heard Adrian speaking in low tones with Dr. Vance.
“Mr. Moretti, Willa’s uterus was damaged beyond repair—she can never conceive again. Now that you have another child on the way, why won’t you let her go?” “Have you ever considered that what you call protection might be just another form of harm to her? Do you still love her?”
My newly awakened thoughts froze in place.
After a long silence, Adrian didn’t answer the question about love. His voice came out flat and distant:
“If Willa and I separated, she wouldn’t survive.”
I lowered my eyes. I couldn’t name what I felt.
Seven years of marriage—Adrian and I had truly loved each other once. We knew each other better than anyone.
Before, I had hated him. Hated him for hiding the grave, for standing by and watching me be consumed by grief and depression for seven long years.
But now, the resentment I’d accumulated over those years quietly dissolved.
Adrian hated when I called myself a burden. But these seven years, I truly had been exhausted. And I truly had dragged him down.
He was the Don of the Moretti family. Power, wealth, the highest honors—a whole life of grandeur should have been his.
Once I was gone, he would be completely free. No longer shackled by me.
I slowly sat up, leaned against the headboard, and smiled.
Soon. We would both be free.