Death 8

Chapter 8 

The gun barrel shifted at the last second-he grabbed my wrist. 

Rizza’s shrill scream pierced the air. “Stop it! Maureen, you bitch!” 

The bodyguards from both sides clashed, fists and steel colliding in chaos. 

Niccolo and I locked onto each other. 

He knocked the gun from my hand; I wrapped my fingers around his throat. 

dragged a blade across the scar he had once earned protecting me. 

He struck at the wound he had once left on me. 

Blood sprayed, speckling both our faces. 

Ne fought until his stitches tore open. 

Until my strength ran dry. 

Only then did we collapse, both falling to the ground. 

Rizza shrank into a corner, trembling, terror etched across her face. 

Through ragged breaths, he was the first to rise. 

clawed for the dagger, but his boot sent it flying. Instead, he pulled me into his arms and sat ne against the wall. 

The medical kit meant for him was now used on me. 

Alcohol poured into my wounds, the sting searing. He blew gently across the gash, his breath a strange mix of tenderness and danger. Gauze wrapped snugly around my arm, but I turned my 

ace away. 

Maureen…” His lashes clung with beads of blood, his lowered eyes carrying a dangerous allure. How did we end up here?” 

The alcohol burned again. He quickly bent down, blowing over the wound like he used to. 

No iodine… bear with it, alright?” 

Bear with it. 

f not for the blood-drenched wedding hall around us, I might have thought I was eighteen agair -wounded by my father’s hand, comforted by the boy who tended me. 

Back then, he disinfected my wounds with the same care, whispering, “Bear with it. Just a little onger, Maureen. I’ll take you away from all this. I’ll bring you somewhere no one can ever hurt you again. Even if it costs me my life.” 

But when I opened my eyes now, that boy had grown into a man. 

Still treating my wounds-yet every wound I bore had been caused by him. 

‘Niccolo,” I said coldly, “do you know your reproductive system is actually impaired?” 

His hand froze. 

I laughed bitterly. “Our two children… were probably the only chance you’ll ever have at 

fatherhood.” 

His brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” 

“The medical report was fake.” My eyes locked on his. “I didn’t want to strip you of your pride as 

a man, but I was never the problem.” 

The cotton swab snapped in his grip. 

I stood and glanced toward the corner, at Rizza. 

“So tell me those two pregnancies of hers… were they really carrying your child?” 

Niccolo fell silent. 

I turned, walking away step by step. “I’m tired, Niccolo. I won’t keep fighting with you.” 

I left-not because I was running, but because I knew him. 

He wouldn’t be able to resist investigating. And when he did, he would uncover his true medical records… and the man Rizza really loved. 

It didn’t take long, and a video appeared on my phone. 

Rizza was dragged by her hair to the riverbank, her hands were bound behind her back. The love in her eyes for Niccolo was gone, replaced with hatred. 

‘Like I could ever love you! If it weren’t for your stupidity, my father wouldn’t have died at tha whore’s hands! I thought you rose on your own merit, but no-you were just afraid of your own wife! Coward! Useless fool!” 

Niccolo merely lifted a hand. 

His men hurled her into the river. 

The torrential rain was as heavy as it had been when we were eighteen. 

Once more, he dialed the number he had called countless times before. 

Once more, it was blocked. 

He tapped the screen, then flung the phone aside. 

Turning, he glanced at the camera still recording. Rain streaked down his face, and for a fleeting moment, he looked like the boy I once knew. 

He gave the lens a pale, bitter smile. 

When everyone left, he walked alone toward the raging river. 

Step by step, into the flood. 

The waters swallowed him whole-swallowed the boy I once loved. 

Later, the police recovered his phone. The last message he had sent was made public. It was for 

[Maureen, I’m sorry.] 

I stood at the river’s edge, umbrella in hand, watching his men place offerings to honor him. 

Then I turned silently away. 

Not by divorce-but by widowhood.