Chapter 22 Chapter 22
Lily
The city is unusually quiet.
I stand in the kitchen of Sebastian’s penthouse, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The skyline stretches far into the distance, but my eyes keep drifting to the same point—toward the direction he disappeared into hours ago.
He told me not to leave. Told me to stay safe. He kissed me like it might be the last time.
And then he was gone.
I’ve called him five times. No answer. I even texted Bella to ask if she heard anything. Nothing. Only silence.
Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. Firm. Heavy. Too slow to be casual.
I rush to open it. It’s not Sebastian.
It’s Rocco—Sebastian’s right-hand man. Behind him, two of the godfather’s most trusted soldiers stand like statues, dressed in black. Their faces grim.
“Where is he?” I ask, already feeling something wrong crawl under my skin.
Rocco’s lips press together. “Can I come in?”
“No,” I whisper. My voice is shaking. “Where is Sebastian?”
He doesn’t speak. He just looks at me with eyes filled with something I can’t describe. Regret? Grief?
My heart races, and I step back like I’ve been hit. “No. Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.”
Rocco steps forward, slow, deliberate. “Lily... I’m so sorry.”
The walls blur. The ground tilts. “No.”
“There was an ambush... at the godfather’s mansion. The Bratva attacked. Many men died.” His voice cracks. “Sebastian didn’t make it out.”
The world goes silent.
I stare at him, not believing a word. “He promised me he’d come back. He just left a few hours ago—he kissed me, Rocco. He told me he loved me.”
“I know,” Rocco whispers. “He loved you more than anything.”
Tears spill down my cheeks. My chest tightens so much I can’t breathe. “No. No. No. No. He’s not dead. He’s not. You’re wrong. He always survives. He’s Sebastian fucking Manchini—he can’t die!”
I stumble backward. My knees give out and I collapse on the floor, the weight of those words crashing down.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead.
My screams rip through the penthouse. I don’t care who hears. I scream like it will bring him back. Like my voice can reach him wherever he is.
Rocco crouches next to me, holding my trembling body. “He died protecting us all. The godfather’s alive because of him. So are you.”
I sob into his chest, wishing I could tear time apart and go back. Just a few hours. Just to stop him. Just to say I love you again.
How can someone be here one moment and gone the next?
He was mine. And now he’s gone.
And I never even got to say goodbye.
Lily
It’s been two days since Rocco told me Sebastian was dead.
Two days since my heart stopped beating with his.
The penthouse is too quiet. His scent still lingers on the pillows. His black suit jacket is draped over the chair. I sit curled up on the edge of the couch, dressed in black. My hair is pinned back, but strands fall messily around my face. I haven’t looked in a mirror. I don’t want to see what grief looks like on me.
There’s a knock on the door. This time, it’s softer. Hesitant.
I walk slowly and open it.
It’s the godfather.
He’s dressed in an all-black tailored suit, silver cufflinks, and a cane in hand. The lines on his face are deeper today. His eyes hold the weight of war.
“May I come in?” he asks, voice low and heavy.
I nod and step aside.
He walks in slowly and looks around. “He kept you safe, just like he promised.”
I don’t speak. My throat burns.
He turns to face me. “Lily, I made a vow years ago that I’d protect his legacy. Sebastian wasn’t just my left hand man… he was like a son to me. And I failed him.”
My voice cracks. “No. He made a choice. For you. For all of us.”
He nods slowly, his jaw clenched. “He loved you, Lily. You were the only thing that made him soft. That made him… human.”
A silence falls between us. The godfather reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a silver chain with a medallion—the Manchini family crest.
“He wanted you to have this if anything happened to him.”
I reach out with trembling fingers and take it. It’s warm. Like it still holds his pulse.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes welling up.
“There’s a car downstairs. The funeral is in one hour.”
I nod, unable to form any more words.
The Funeral
The chapel is bathed in gray light. The sky outside weeps like it knows what today is.
People from every corner of the criminal world are present—Italian dons, Sicilian bloodlines, high-ranking allies from across the Atlantic. But all I see is the black coffin at the front of the room.
Covered in white roses.
I sit in the front row. My hand clutches the medallion around my neck like it’s his heart still beating inside me.
Rocco sits beside me. On the other side, Bella slides into the pew, her face pale but determined. She reaches out and places her hand over mine.
“I came as soon as I heard,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry, Lily.”
Tears spill from my eyes again. I nod. “Thank you.”
She squeezes my hand gently. “He loved you. He changed when he met you… I could see it. Even back then.”
The priest begins the ceremony. Words blur. I hear “honor,” “legacy,” “loyalty.” But none of them bring him back.
Then they open the doors, and six men walk in to carry the coffin out. Rocco, Lorenzo, Antonio, Dante… all dressed in black, all broken in silence.
I follow behind as the casket is brought to the burial site in the cemetery behind the chapel. The moment they lower it into the earth, I fall to my knees.
A scream is buried inside my chest, but I don’t let it out.
Bella kneels beside me, helping me stay upright as the godfather steps forward to toss the first handful of dirt into the grave.
One by one, they all follow.
And when it's my turn, I step forward, my hand shaking as I drop a white rose.
“I’ll love you in this life, the next, and every life after,” I whisper to the earth. “Goodbye, Sebastian.”
After the Funeral
Back at the penthouse, Bella makes tea in the kitchen. The godfather left quietly after the burial, his face unreadable.
Bella sits beside me, handing me the cup. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You’re not alone.”
I clutch the cup between my palms. “What if he’s not really dead?”
Bella looks at me gently. “Lily…”
“I just feel him. Like he’s still out there. Breathing. Watching.”
Bella doesn't argue. She just sits with me in the silence, and somehow, I know she believes it too.
And maybe… just maybe…
He is.