When the Last Rejection Turned Into a Plea

I stumbled back to the villa I shared with Rocco, but I had no intention of dying at that place. All I wanted was to pack my things. Then, I realized there was hardly anything there that was mine.

I went back to what was once my bedroom and discovered that it had been converted into a storage room.

My dressing table was pushed into a corner, covered in thick dust. My treasured books and photos were all dumped in cardboard boxes.

Only the bed remained in its original spot, but the sheets had long been replaced with rough gray cloth.

There was also a worn-out jewelry box containing the only birthday gift Rocco ever gave me—a cheap silver necklace.

Sitting on the bedside, I brushed the dust off the table. I froze when my fingers found a photo frame.

It was a photo from my 18th birthday. I wore a champagne dress, and my eyes still had life in them. Now, my face was drained of color with only emptiness in my gaze.

Even Sofia's walk-in closet was five times bigger than my storage room. The only things here were what she didn't want.

The original bedroom belonged to me as Rocco's wife had been turned into Sofia's yoga room two years earlier. It boasted the finest equipment, and the aromatherapy diffuser used luxurious essential oils.

They moved me into this small room with no windows. At this point, they even took this away from me and changed it into a storage room.

My phone suddenly rang, cutting off my thoughts.

A gentle woman's voice came through the phone. "Thank you for choosing Everrest Memorial Garden. Are you still interested in the burial plot you asked about, Ms. Moretti?

"We can hold it for seven days if you pay the deposit now. Otherwise, we'll have to offer it to other clients."

That was the resting place I had checked out a month before. Flawless marble artwork surrounded the area, and the exquisite glass coffin glittered under the dome light.

Finding eternal rest there was everything I had hoped for, but it cost 80 thousand dollars.

I looked at the few hundred dollars left in my wallet and paused. "No. Thank you."

I couldn't even afford a bone marrow transplant. I guessed I couldn't even afford to have a proper death.

I barely ended the call when the door pushed open. I looked up to see Rocco walking in.

He was used to catching the faint scent of lilies of the valley in every corner of the house. It was there because I loved them. Their fragrance stayed with me wherever I went.

The dead air now felt off to him, putting him on edge.

He frowned a little and subconsciously took a deep breath, trying to catch the familiar scent. However, there was nothing—only dust and the smell of mold.

But he promptly dismissed the strange feeling and glared at me. "What was that about a burial plot?"

Rocco's voice was flat and cold. "I've already warned you, Claire. Stop harming yourself to make people feel sorry for you. Do you find it entertaining?"

I didn't plan to respond, but the words were out before I could stop them. "I didn't—"

He interrupted, scolding me harshly, "Didn't what? We're done talking. Don't even think about taking what belongs to Sofia. Some things were never yours to have."

I broke down, and tears started streaming down my cheeks.

He insisted that the celebration, the place as the Don's wife, and even all his love belonged to Sofia. But what about everything that should have been mine? Had he forgotten it all?

I looked up and met his gaze. "Do you remember my 18th birthday celebration?"

Rocco's face went stiff for a moment, and his attention wandered to the photograph on the table. However, he quickly looked away and snapped, "What are you trying to say?"

I muttered, "That day, you promised to hold a grand wedding to announce me as your wife to every prominent family. But later, you said I was too incompetent to stand by your side."

He sounded annoyed. "What are you getting at?"

I continued, "Later on, you missed my 19th, 20th, and 21st birthdays. Yet, when it came to Sofia, you never missed a single occasion."

Rocco spun around. "That's enough, Claire! You always make a big deal out of nothing. Can't you see the bigger picture? If you didn't get so easily hurt and emotional, I might remember you exist."

I stared into his cold eyes, feeling the intimidating presence that came with his high rank in the mafia. In his eyes, my very existence was a mistake. My love, my sacrifices, and my pain were all wrong.

I murmured, "You're right, Rocco. I wasn't good enough."

I turned away from him. "The documents are in the second drawer on the left. I left you something inside, but give it three days before opening it."

He left without a word. The midnight chime sounded, and the room fell quiet again.

I clung to the battered frame, feeling my life slowly fade away. I only had two more days to go.