The Blind Don's Unwanted Ghost Wife

Gianna's POV

I stood in the shadows of the warehouse, watching him.

My mind involuntarily drifted back to the past—to the arranged marriage between Dante and Francesca when they were kids.

I remembered how Francesca's family broke off the engagement the moment Dante's family lost their power.

She abandoned him.

She humiliated him throughout high school, twisting him into a withdrawn, isolated youth.

But I was the one who stayed.

I helped him forge alliances. I helped him build his legitimate fronts. I stayed by his side until he clawed his way back to power.

And now, I was forced to watch him believe her lies and punish my family.

"Listen to the doctors and get some rest," Dante said softly into the phone, his tone so tender it didn't match the man who had just snapped my brother's fingers. "I'll come see you soon."

He hung up the phone and turned around. When he spoke again, his voice was back to ice.

"Throw Leo in the holding cell," he ordered.

"Drag her to the solitary confinement room in the back." He jerked his chin toward my unconscious mother, then strode toward the warehouse exit.

I floated out after him.

On his way, he stopped at a high-end boutique for a brief moment.

He came out carrying a nutritious meal and a bouquet of fresh flowers.

Outside the door of the hospital's VIP suite, I stopped in the hallway.

Through the half-open door, I saw him hesitate at the threshold. He cleared his throat, lowered his voice, then pushed the door open with a smile on his face.

"Frankie?"

Francesca sat up in her hospital bed.

She turned her head slightly, staring blankly at the wall—playing the blind victim flawlessly.

"Is that you?" she asked.

Dante walked over, placed the flowers on the nightstand, and affectionately ruffled her hair: "You're so clever, knowing it was me just from my voice."

Francesca pouted: "It took you way too long to come see me."

"But I'm here now, aren't I?" Dante coaxed her gently, placing the flowers into her hands. "You are the most important person in my life, Frankie."

Francesca brought the flowers up to her nose and sniffed.

Her brow immediately furrowed.

"Are these gardenias?" she asked, a hint of displeasure in her voice. "You know my favorites are bluebells."

Dante's hand froze.

He was holding a plastic spoon, stirring her warm porridge. The spoon hung in mid-air; it took him a few seconds before he resumed stirring.

Gardenias.

My favorite flowers. Once upon a time.

A flicker of something flashed through Francesca's supposedly blind eyes. It was quick, well-hidden, but I caught it.

It was resentment.

She instantly shifted her expression, her voice trembling: "Are you... are you still thinking about Gianna?"

Dante put the spoon down. He took her hand, his tone hardening: "I wouldn't waste a single second on a liar who left me to rot in the dark. The florist just made a mistake."

He paused, leaning in closer to her: "I'm only hunting her down to get her heart. The day you're fully healed, we're getting married."

Francesca stared in the direction of his face. She pouted: "Then prove it to me."

"How?"

"Kiss me."

Dante leaned down.

He pressed his lips against hers, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

I turned away.

I covered my ears with my hands, but the intimate sounds of them still slipped through. The sound made me sick to my stomach.

I floated out of the hospital room and stood in the desolate hallway.

Betrayal ate away at me from the inside like venom, delivering a thousand tiny bites.

My sacrifice, my corneas, my family—she had stolen it all.