Buried Alive, I Left the Don My Blood-Written Truth Chapter 08
Adrian slowly closed his eyes. I heard Lily’s voice in the well, calling for Mommy. Her cry rang beside my ear
again. Ava handed Adrian a statement written in blood.
“The old gardener has been found.”
“He was responsible for sealing the well. Last night, he tried to run and was stopped by the guards.”
“He knew he wouldn’t live, so he bit open his finger and wrote this in blood.”
Adrian unfolded it. Only a few crooked lines were written on the paper.
“Margaret pushed Miss Lily into the well.”
“Miss Lily cried, Grandma, please don’t. Don’t put me in the water.”
“Miss Vivian stood beside them and covered Miss Lily’s mouth.”
The paper crumpled in Adrian’s hand. Vivian collapsed onto the floor.
“I didn’t.”
“I was just afraid she would scream for help.”
“I didn’t want her to die.”
Margaret said coldly, “Useless thing. Crying even now.” Adrian stared at them.
“Where is Mara?”
Ava answered, “An abandoned church outside the city.” Adrian took the guards and went to arrest her. I followed at his side. Little girls’ shoes hung all over the abandoned church. Every pair had belonged to a girl. Red ones. Blue ones. One tiny shoe had a rabbit embroidered on the toe. Mara sat behind the altar. When she
saw Adrian, she didn’t run. She shook her brass bell and laughed.
“Don Moretti has finally come.”
Adrian kicked over the altar.
“Who gave you the right?”
Mara was pinned to the ground. She still laughed.
“I didn’t teach them cruelty. The world did.”
“There are plenty of families who pray for male heirs.”
“Drown one girl and trade her for a male heir. They are all willing.”
Adrian drew his gun.
“How many children have you harmed?”
Mara looked up at him.
“Don Moretti, your mother wasn’t the first.”
“And she won’t be the last.”
“When they come to me, they all speak of family. Of bloodline.”
“The truth is, they look down on women too, even themselves. They just don’t have the guts to say it out
loud.”
Adrian pressed the muzzle to her throat. Mara’s smile turned stranger.
“You think you’re clean?”
Adrian didn’t move. Mara stared at him.
“Your mother dared touch Lily because she knew you wanted a son too.”
“She said you once said yourself that if there were a legitimate male heir, the foundation of the Moretti family would be more stable.”
Adrian’s hand froze. I remembered that sentence too. That night, he had returned from a city charity gala. He
was not very drunk. Margaret brought up the adopted son. Adrian said in a low voice, “If there were a legitimate male heir, the foundation of the Moretti family would be more stable.” After he said it, he lifted Lily
into his arms and kissed her.
“But my daughter is good too.”
I heard the second half. Margaret only heard the first. Or perhaps she only wanted to hear the first. Mara
laughed.
“You put the blade in her hand.”
“Your mother merely swung it for you.”
Adrian’s gun fell to the floor. He said quietly, “So I gave her the knife.”
“Call a Family tribunal.”
After Adrian returned to the Moretti compound, that was all he said. When the Family Council arrived, they looked like men walking into a funeral. One elder leaned on his cane.
“Adrian, internal family matters should be handled behind closed doors.”
“You called detectives and neighborhood witnesses here. Do you want the whole city to spit on the Moretti
name?”
Adrian stood before the meeting hall of the Moretti compound.
“When my wife and daughter were murdered, did any of you treat them like Morettis?”
The elders of the Family Council had no answer. Another uncle from a side branch muttered, “Elena was
lowborn, after all. Connor was…” Adrian looked at him.
“Was what?”
The uncle shut his mouth. Adrian ordered the evidence laid out one piece at a time. Lily’s red ankle cord. Connor’s little shoe. The forged burial order. Mara’s ritual manual. Vivian’s poisoned handkerchief. And my coffin board. The words I had carved in blood were still there. Outside the meeting hall, the neighborhood witnesses went quiet. Someone read the words under his breath.
“Adrian, I didn’t do it.”
Ava examined my body in public. She didn’t let anyone lift the white cloth. She only pointed at my hands.
“All ten finger bones are worn down. There are blood words inside the coffin.”
“Coffin dust in the mouth and nose. Mud fragments in the throat.”
“Elena was still breathing when the coffin was sealed.”
The detective’s hand shook as he took notes. Then Margaret was brought in.
