The Wife Buried Before the Wedding

Vittorio Moretti was unrecognizable. His fine tailored suit was charred to his skin, his silver hair singed away. But his eyes—cold, dead, and utterly unyielding—were the same.

As the paramedics forced him onto a stretcher, he locked eyes with Adriana.

“You think you won,” Vittorio hissed, his voice like grinding stones.

Adriana walked slowly toward him. The FBI agents tried to step in her way, but the female lead agent held up a hand, letting her pass.

Adriana stood over the broken Don.

“I did win,” she said simply.

“My lawyers will have me out by morning,” Vittorio spat, a bloody foam on his lips. “I will hunt you. I will hunt Elena. I will find the child.”

Adriana didn't flinch. She reached down into the neckline of her ruined, soaked wedding dress and pulled out the heavy brass key. The one she had struck his hand to get. The key to the chain.

She dropped it on his chest.

“You don’t have lawyers anymore, Vittorio,” she said quietly. “Marco gave up all your accounts to the Feds last week to stage his coup. Elena gave them the paper trail. You are bankrupt. You are alone. You are a king of ashes.”

Vittorio stared at the brass key, the realization finally breaking him. He let out a pathetic, guttural wail as the paramedics loaded him into the back of the ambulance.

Adriana turned her back on him and walked away.

She found Luca at the hospital two hours later.

He was out of surgery, heavily bandaged, but awake. When Adriana walked into the stark white room, she was no longer wearing the blood-stained wedding dress. A kind nurse had given her a pair of scrubs and a warm sweater.

Luca couldn't look at her. He stared at the ceiling.

“They told me my father is under federal guard in the burn unit,” Luca said hollowly. “Marco is in federal lockup. They’re both going away forever.”

“And you?” Adriana asked, pulling a chair to his bedside.

“The FBI agent came in an hour ago. Elena made a deal for me. Because I didn’t know about the syndicate’s current operations, and because I shot Domenico to save you, they’re giving me immunity.”

He finally turned to look at her. His eyes were shattered.

“I’m signing the divorce papers tomorrow, Adriana. I will give you everything. The house, the money that’s clean, whatever you want. You deserve a life far away from the name Moretti.”

Adriana sat quietly. She looked at this man. He had lied by omission, but when the guns were drawn, he had put his body between her and the bullets. He had chosen her over his blood.

She reached into her pocket.

She pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. It was the birth certificate with Vittorio’s handwriting. The death warrant for her mother.

She struck a match from a book on the bedside table.

Luca watched in shock as Adriana set the paper on fire, letting it burn to ash in a metal kidney tray.

“My mother died so Elena could live,” Adriana said, her voice steady. “She died so Sofia could be born. She broke the curse of this family.”

Adriana reached out and took Luca’s hand.

“I’m not leaving, Luca.”