My Husband Murdered Our Girls,I Made Him Pay in Blood

"Adriana, please. Don't do this. You have to calm down!" Lucia held my trembling body so tightly she was nearly crushing me into her arms. Her tears splashed hot against my back, scalding. "I promise you, the police will handle this properly. Those monsters who hurt the children, every last one of them will pay! The Falcone Family won't let this go. Grandfather won't let this go. Elena Moretti and Rosalia Moretti won't have suffered for nothing. We'll make them pay in blood!"

Her comfort was warm and urgent, but to my ears, it was nothing but bitter irony and despair.

I went limp in her arms, sliding to the floor. My gaze locked onto the men in dark Nardellis huddled in the corner. Them. Yesterday, they had dragged my children into that van with their own hands. They had tortured my five-year-old babies to death.

At first, my earlier breakdown seemed to have frightened them into silence. But now, seeing me drained of strength, nothing left but bloodshot eyes, they grew bold again. Contempt crept across their faces. One of them curled his lip and let out a low, mocking snort.

"Tch. What a hassle." The one who looked like their crew leader spat on the floor, his gaze sweeping over me with open disdain. His voice dripped with cold deflection. "Maybe if you'd done your job as a mother and raised them right? Spoiled rotten at that age, no respect for their elders. That's exactly why they were sent to St. Lazarus. A little discipline never hurt anyone."

Another man chimed in, his tone even more vicious: "The house has always believed in 'spare the rod, spoil the child.' Other kids can take it just fine. How were we supposed to know your two little girls were so fragile? One day of training and they gave out. Rotten luck, that's what this is, and now we're the ones dealing with the fallout!"

"What did you just say?!" My head snapped up. My fingers curled so tight my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood I couldn't feel. Fragile. Hassle. Each word was a poisoned blade, plunging into my heart, shredding what little sanity I had left. Rage and hatred detonated inside me, flooding through my veins, burning through every limb until my whole body felt like it was on fire. I wanted to lunge at them, tear the flesh from their bones, grind their skeletons to dust.

"You... you animals!" My voice came out shredded, like a broken bell. Every word was soaked in blood and tears. My body shook like a candle guttering in the wind. "My children were five years old. Five. What could they possibly understand? They were just babies! How could you do this to them? How dare you! I'll kill you. I'll make you pay for their lives!"

I tried to claw my way up, but Lucia held me down. Then a violent surge of copper flooded my throat, choking me. My chest seized like a boulder had been dropped on it, the pain blinding. The next second, my mouth opened and a spray of bright red blood burst out, spattering across the cold stone floor like blossoms of desperate, blood-red plum flowers, searing to look at.

My vision blurred. I could still hear Lucia's anguished screams, the men's panicked whispers, but I couldn't hold on anymore. My eyes fell shut, and I plunged into endless darkness, where even hatred became a distant thing.

When I woke again, the familiar scent of sandalwood filled my nose. Not the antiseptic smell of a clinic, but the distinctive fragrance of the Falcone estate. I opened my eyes slowly. Above me was the carved ceiling I knew so well. On the nightstand, a lamp cast a soft amber glow. Warm light that couldn't touch the ice in my heart.

Lucia was curled up in the chair beside my bed, her eyes swollen like walnuts, dried tear tracks still visible on her face. Her hair was a mess, exhaustion carved deep beneath her eyes. She must have been watching over me for hours. The moment I stirred, she jolted awake and leaned in close, her eyes lighting up with relief and heartache. "Adriana! You're awake? Oh thank God, you're finally awake. You scared me half to death!"

She reached out to feel my forehead. Only after confirming I had no fever did she exhale and continue: "Don't worry, we've been on top of the police. Grandfather made the calls himself." Her voice dropped the way it always did when she invoked Salvatore Falcone's authority, as though the old Don's name alone could bend the law like a loaded envelope passed under a precinct desk. "Everyone at that compound, the administrators, the staff who laid hands on them, they're all in custody now. We won't show any mercy this time. We'll make sure they face the consequences. We'll get justice for Elena and Rosalia!"

I turned my head slowly, my hollow gaze drifting to the ceiling. Empty. As if my soul had been ripped out, leaving only a broken shell behind.

Justice? What was justice? My children were dead. Their bodies covered in bruises. I never even got to say goodbye. Even if every last one of those people rotted in the joint, my babies weren't coming back. Justice was just a lie we told ourselves. My thumb found the edge of the ash locket at my throat and pressed there, hard, until the metal bit into the pad of my finger like a second pulse.

"Please..." My voice floated out thin and numb, like something drifting up from the depths of hell. "Let me go, Lucia. I have nothing left. My children are gone. What's the point of being alive? I don't want anything. Not compensation from the Falcone Family, not your so-called justice. I just want to leave. I want to get away from here. Away from everything connected to Maeve..."