Four Empty Coffins, One Terminal Diagnosis Chapter 08
The gala was at a private club in Midtown Manhattan.
The black SUV pulled up to the entrance. Dante stepped out first, then turned and extended his
hand.
I took it. My heels hit the pavement.
Black gown. Ruby necklace-on loan from the Moretti family. It had to go back after the gala. My hair had grown out a little. The stylist worked around the thin spots. My face was still pale, but the lipstick covered the sickliness.
No one would recognize me.
The hall was packed.
When the Moretti family walked in, the crowd parted like the Red Sea.
I saw Gideon in the corner. He’d switched to a new cane. His hair was pure white now. His eyes were
clouded.
I saw Damian slumped at the bar. His suit was a wrinkled mess. His tie was crooked. He never used
to look like that.
I saw Adrian.
He stood at the center of the hall, holding a glass of wine. He’d lost weight. His cheekbones were sharper than three years ago. On his ring finger, he still wore the ring I gave him.
Dante led me through the middle of the hall.
My heels clicked against the marble floor. The sound was crisp and clear.
Then Adrian turned his head.
He was looking straight at me.
The wine glass slipped from his hand.
The music swallowed the sound of crystal shattering against the floor. But I saw his lips move.
Vivienne.
He was mouthing that name.
I didn’t stop.
Dante didn’t stop either.
We reached the main table and took our seats. The Moretti family’s table sat at the center of the
hall.
Adrian pushed through the crowd. The bodyguards blocked him. “Vivienne!”
He shouted it.
Half the room went quiet.
I lifted my head. I looked into his eyes.
There was a time when those eyes would’ve wrecked me. One look and I’d be crying. Now I just felt a stranger staring back at me.
“Mr. Bellandi.” My voice was so steady it surprised even me. “You’ve got me confused with someone else. Vivienne Vale is dead.”
The blood drained from Adrian’s face.
“No-no. You’re her. Your eyes-”
“My name is Vittoria Moretti.”
Dante rose. He didn’t rush. He just walked over and stood beside me. He didn’t wrap an arm around me. No territorial display. He simply stood there like a wall.
“Bellandi.” His voice was quiet, but it carried across the entire hall. “Are you questioning someone under Moretti protection?”
Adrian stared at Dante. Then at me. His hands were shaking.
“You’re alive,” he said. His voice dropped low. So low only the three of us could hear it. “You’re alive. Why didn’t you come back?”
I looked him dead in the eye. “You mourn me because I’m dead.”
I heard my own voice. Calm. Like I was reading from a medical chart.
“But when I was alive, you never truly loved me.”
Adrian’s face shattered. He’d held himself together ever since learning of my “death.” Refused to break. But right then, right there-he had nothing left to hold.
Dante took my hand. “Excuse us.” He led me out of the hall. No one followed.
Inside the elevator, it was just the two of us. Dante released my hand and pressed the button for the parking garage.
“You did well.”
I leaned back against the elevator wall and closed my eyes.
That night, all of Manhattan learned one thing.
The dead daughter of the Vale family didn’t crawl out of her grave.
She just finally walked away from it.
And the man beside me controls half of New York’s underworld.
This time, no one will ever force me to my knees again.
