The Mafia Don’s Graveyard Bride Chapter 07
Margaret’s hysterical cursing still echoed from beyond the door, but the office was finally, completely silent.
The vast room held only Adrian, alone.
He opened the private safe concealed in the back of his office. Inside, arranged with meticulous care, were all the antidepressants Willa had taken over seven years, a thick stack of unbroken medical records, and countless yellowed sticky notes.
Messages she had written to their dead child. Never sent.
Baby, Mommy barely made it through today.
Baby, when will Mommy get to see you again?
Baby, Mommy is so tired. I don’t think I can hold on much longer.
Note after note. Every word bled despair. Every sentence cried out for help.
Adrian’s fingers shook as he turned them over, one by one.
Seven years of neglect and regret crashed down on him, crushing body and soul alike.
He finally understood completely.
He used to tell others—tell himself—that if they divorced, Willa wouldn’t survive.
It was never true. It was his obsessive refusal to let go. His self-righteous protection. For seven years he had caged her, grinding every last hope to dust.
Before long, word came from the medical center.
After losing her child, Gia had suffered a complete emotional collapse. She cried ceaselessly, demanding to speak with Adrian.
Enzo came to ask for instructions: “Don, regarding Gia Romano…”
Adrian’s expression was blank, his voice devoid of any inflection:
“Terminate all dedicated funding. Cut off all medical expenses. Every prior agreement is void. Notify the legal team—conduct a full investigation into how she forged her prenatal reports, deliberately deceived me, and used the pregnancy to pressure Willa into submission. Pursue full legal accountability.”
Enzo hesitated slightly. “Don, the original ultrasound report—”
“I already know. The fetus had severe congenital defects and was never viable. She hid the truth deliberately and used the report to torment Willa.” Adrian closed his eyes, his tone ice. “No more indulgence.”
Days later, an unrelenting Gia appeared outside the gates of the Moretti estate in Oyster Bay, sobbing and screaming.
The gates remained shut. No one answered. No one acknowledged her.
Stripped of her child, stripped of Adrian’s protection, stripped of every privilege—Gia plummeted from the heights overnight, left with absolutely nothing.
And Margaret’s reckoning came swiftly, thoroughly.
The family’s legal team filed suit for full repayment. The two-million-plus debt, compounded with interest, was staggering.
Ethan had burned through most of the money. His newly signed business ventures were seized and shut down the moment the ink dried. Every deal riding on the Moretti name collapsed. Buried under crushing debt, hounded by creditors, he fled from city to city.
Margaret spent her days in tears, begging anyone who would listen to intercede on her behalf. But everyone feared Adrian’s wrath. No one dared help.
Desperate, Margaret once rushed to the gates of Westchester Eternal Memorial Park, trying to force her way in to pay respects. Security held her back.
“The deceased left advance instructions. Her family members are not permitted within ten meters of the grave.”
Margaret collapsed outside the cemetery gates, pounding the ground, sobbing, cursing Willa for being cruel.
Passersby glanced over. No one felt sympathy. They only thought it was what she deserved.
Beneath the shadow of the pines, Adrian stood in silence, watching with cold, unblinking eyes.
Willa had repaid every debt while she was still alive. They were even. Square.
Margaret’s downfall was the harvest of her own greed. No one else to blame.
In the months that followed, Adrian liquidated a significant portion of his personal assets and delegated much of the family’s operations to Enzo.
He spent nearly every day at Westchester Eternal Memorial Park. Rain or shine.
Each day he brought Willa’s favorite pastries and new toys for the baby, setting them gently before the two headstones.
Wind and frost and snow turned more and more of his dark hair to grey.
He shed the bespoke suits of a family boss and wore only plain, muted clothing. Quiet and desolate.
He would often sit beside the headstones, speaking softly, staying from dawn until dark.
“Willa, it’s raining today. It’s cold—don’t let yourself get chilled.”
“Baby, I brought you a new stuffed animal.”
“I always thought that keeping you by my side was the best way to protect you.”
“I was wrong.”
The cemetery groundskeeper watched with quiet anguish and would gently urge him:
“Mr. Moretti, the dead are gone. You should look ahead. Live your life.”
Adrian gazed at the headstone still bearing traces of her blood. He shook his head slowly, his eyes barren and still:
“I have no road ahead.”
“Every tomorrow she would ever have ended here, buried in this soil. What right do I have to go on living as if time stretches endlessly before me?”
Enzo came multiple times to persuade him to return to family affairs, to take care of himself. Each time, Adrian refused quietly.
“What’s the point of being alive?”
Adrian looked at Enzo, his voice hollow.
“To rattle around that empty estate? To stare at every trace she left behind and relive, over and over, how I drove her to her death?”
Enzo had no words. No comfort to offer.
The vast Oyster Bay estate was haunted by Willa’s presence everywhere.
The thin blanket she had draped over herself. The half-finished bottle of antidepressants on the nightstand. The new dress she had worn to the cemetery that day. Every object was a relentless reminder of his seven years of failure.
He had formally announced within the family that Willa had passed due to severe depression. Everyone expressed sorrow for the former Mrs. Moretti’s tragic fate.
Soon, women from other families and financial dynasties began arriving at his door, angling for an alliance.
Every overture was refused.
One socialite tried gently: “Adrian, what’s done is done. You’re still in your prime. You need someone to share the rest of your life with.”
Adrian stood at the threshold, his gaze clear and absolute:
“My wife is Willa. She was in life. She is in death. She always will be.”
The visitor left in awkward silence. No one dared raise the subject again.