The Wife He Used to Bury the Truth - Chapter 9: Chapter 9

I lingered outside the church as the mourners drifted away, each returning to their separate lives. The scene felt eerily familiar—like twenty years ago, when we'd first stepped onto Sicilian soil after leaving America. Back then, we'd stood together in front of a church too.
He'd pressed my father's police badge into my palm, swearing to protect us both for the rest of his life. His voice had been so full of conviction back then, so damn sure of himself, that I'd almost believed him. The shadows we'd carried from home had seemed to dissolve under his stubborn determination to carve out a new life here.
The memory hit me like a gut punch. Then, warmth pressed against my back—his cologne wrapping around me, dragging up every buried moment I'd fought to forget.
Vincenzo's arms locked around me like he wanted to fuse me into his bones, as if loosening his grip would mean losing me forever.
"Do you remember?" His voice was rough with longing, but beneath it, I heard the crack of heartbreak. "Just like when we first came to this town."
His breath shuddered. "Please… give me one more chance. Let me make it right, Alessandra. I'll do anything. Give you everything—just let me stay."
A tear slid down his cheek and landed on my hand, scalding my skin.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my chest tightening. "The only thing I want," I said, icy and final, "is for you to vanish from my life, Vincenzo."
I wrenched free and shoved him back hard before melting into Milan's chaotic streets.
"As you wish." His voice was quiet, resigned, as he watched me disappear into the crowd, swallowed by the city's roar.
In a monastery on Milan's outskirts, I finished tending to the last body, my hands steady as I closed the final wound.
Around me, the nuns' whispers swirled:
"Have you heard? Sicily's youngest godfather turned himself in."
"Confessed to betraying an undercover officer, lying to his wife, getting her father killed—even causing her miscarriage. That devil finally repented. Poor woman. He put her through hell."
My hands paused briefly before I reached for my phone. The headline showed Vincenzo in cuffs, his face a mask of indifference during the trial—eyes dark and empty as still water.
"Express delivery for Miss Russo."
The mailman's voice snapped me back. He held out a thick envelope.
Inside, two documents slid into my lap.
The first: a divorce agreement. His signature slashed across the bottom in those sharp, elegant strokes—Vincenzo's handwriting, as familiar as his touch.
The second: a legal transfer.
He'd signed over everything—his entire empire. Every offshore account, every property, every shred of power he'd clawed his way to… now mine.
A folded parchment slipped out, fluttering to the floor. I picked it up, recognizing the script instantly:
Dear Sandra,
This will never be enough. But take it. I'll disappear. Live free. Far from the darkness.
Vincenzo
A faint smile tugged at my lips. Finally, he gets it.
I tossed the note into the fire, watching the flames devour the last traces of us. In the flickering light, I could almost see my father's relieved smile.
At last, I could reclaim his legacy—and hunt down the truth.
As for Vincenzo? The once-untouchable godfather would rot behind bars, paying for every drop of blood on his hands.
(The End)