The Don's Regret: She Saved His Life

I never went back to the estate.

Instead, I dragged myself to the funeral home, just three blocks from the cemetery gates.

I looked like a monster—mud-caked, blood matting my hair, my dress torn to ribbons. The director looked ready to turn me away until I slammed my diamond earrings on the counter. They were the last things of value I possessed.

"I need a box," I said. "Pine. Simple."

"For whom, Miss?" he asked, his eyes lingering on the diamonds.

"For me."

He hesitated, but avarice won out. He took the earrings.

I didn't have money for a plot, but I knew the cemetery caretaker. He had always liked my mother. I gave him my phone—an iPhone 15 that Dante had forced upon me specifically to track my every move.

"Just dig a hole next to her," I told him. "Please. It doesn't have to be deep. Just enough so the dogs don't get me."

He cried when he saw me, but he took the shovel.

It was sunset when the hole was ready. The pine box sat at the bottom, the lid thrown open.

I climbed down the ladder.

The box was hard and smelled sharply of resin. I lay down. It was narrow, like a hug that wouldn't let go. Above me, I could hear the rain drumming on the earth.

My LVAD controller was clutched in my hand. The battery indicator was flashing red. *Critical. Replace Power Source immediately.*

I didn't have a replacement. I had left the spare batteries at the estate, dumped in the trash can with the photos.

My phone buzzed in the caretaker's pocket. He lowered it down to me with a trembling hand.

"It's him," the caretaker whispered.

I answered.

"Where the hell are you?" Dante’s voice was a growl. "Sofia needs her dinner. If you aren't here in ten minutes, I'm locking you in the Cooler for the night."

"I'm not coming back, Dante," I said. My voice was calm. It was the first time in five years I hadn't been afraid of him.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm done," I said. "The debt is paid."

"You don't get to decide when you're done!" he shouted. "I own you. You die when I say you die."

"Then say it," I whispered. "Say goodbye."

"Elena, I swear to God—"

I yanked the power cord from the battery pack.

The humming stopped.

The silence was deafening.

"Elena?" Dante asked. "What was that noise? Why is it quiet?"

My chest tightened instantly. It felt like a cement block had been dropped onto my lungs. The circulation halted. The oxygen stopped reaching my brain.

"Elena!"

"You... can't... hurt... me..." I gasped, the darkness closing in from the edges of my vision.

I dropped the phone. It landed on the wood beside my ear. I could hear his voice, tiny and tinny, screaming my name.

*Elena! Answer me!*

I closed my eyes. I thought of white roses. I thought of the lake.

And then, I thought of nothing at all.