The “Deceased” Donna Chapter 08
John didn’t leave.
He paid a small fortune to buy the old house next door, didn’t even change the furniture, and simply moved in.
For a long stretch after that, he came to the flower shop every day.
He sent me flowers—I set them at the entrance and sold them at a discount.
He sent me jewelry—I used it as raffle prizes for customers.
He sent me pastries—I turned around and gave them to the homeless.
One day, he stood in the doorway and refused to leave.
I said, “Is the Don really this free these days?”
He said, “The family has the Underboss. The docks have the Capo. I just want to see you.”
“Don’t make the Mafia sound like some office job where you can call in sick.”
He gave a bitter smile. “If you want me to, I’ll walk away from every bloody deal. I’ll be an ordinary businessman.”
“Don’t do it for me. Your sins have nothing to do with me.”
Just then, the Underboss hurried in.
“Don, I need to report something.”
John frowned. “I’ve told you—handle family matters yourself.”
The Underboss glanced at me. “It’s about Riva.”
John stiffened. “Riva and I have nothing to do with each other anymore.”
The Underboss still laid a stack of documents on the counter.
“Her illness was faked.”
The shop fell silent.
The Underboss’s voice was thick with anger. “We investigated the hospital, the doctors, the foundation accounts. She originally faked her illness to lure Carr back to New York. When you started believing it too, she had no choice but to bribe the doctors and keep the act going.”
John snatched up the files. His face went bone-white.
The Underboss played a video.
Riva’s voice came through, clear and unmistakable.
*”I don’t love John. But he’s rich. Who could turn down a man who’s loyal and powerful and rolling in money?”*
*”I just can’t stand Mona. The more miserable she is, the happier I am.”*
*”As long as my illness never gets better, even if she gives John ten children, she’ll never win his heart back.”*
*”She’s so stupid. She gives her whole heart to everyone. That’s exactly why no man will ever take her seriously.”*
John stared at the screen. Then, suddenly, he laughed.
He laughed until the tears came.
“Fake. All of it, fake.”
“For a liar like her, I destroyed my wife. I destroyed my child. I destroyed everything I could have had.”
He looked at me, his eyes shattered.
“Mona, I’ve been such a fool. The one who truly loved me—I threw her away.”
I trimmed a rose stem calmly.
Half a year.
He’d finally tasted what I once felt.
But there was no satisfaction in me. No pain either.
Only exhaustion.
I said, “Are you done crying?”
John stared at me, dazed.
I set down the shears. “When you’re done, leave. Don’t disturb my business.”
“You signed the divorce papers. We’re strangers now.”
“I don’t want your business. I don’t want to see you again.”
John stood there for a long time.
Finally, he said quietly, “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t respond.
He said, “One apology isn’t enough. I know that.”
“I’ll make sure every person who hurt you pays for it.”
I looked at him. “John, don’t dress up revenge as love.”
Something like pain flickered in his eyes.
Then he turned and walked out.
After he left, I mopped the floor where he’d stood. Three times.