Chapter 187 ONE-HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-SEVEN

Chapter 187 ONE-HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-SEVEN


~A week later~

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Alessandro sat opposite her bed, the noise of the machines surrounding her filled his ears.

He was unconscious for four days and the moment he was able to, he made sure the doctors kept Isabelle stable enough for a trip back to Italy. Now, every single day since then started with him sitting beside her and ended with him sleeping beside her.

She looked so ghastly pale that one from afar might not be able to recognize her. The doctor did say she was responding to treatment, although it was slow, but Alessandro wondered why the hell her eyes were still closed.

Why wasn't she waking up?

Why was she lying there like she had no plans of seeing him ever again?

He fucking failed. He felt like a failure. 

He was supposed to protect her and he didn't. That was something he would live with for the rest of his life.

Alessandro looked down at the divorce papers in his hands, then he took a quick look at her.

She wanted this. She did tell him she wasn't comfortable being in his world and maybe she was right. Maybe it wasn't really safe for her. If he couldn't protect her, then what else would he not be able to protect her from?

And if she woke up now, will she still want to look at him?

She never really answered when he asked her if she still loved him. Maybe she didn't anymore or maybe she never really did at all.

Taking a deep breath, his hands trembling a bit, he signed on every single page.

She was free now… and safe.

☪—----------☪

Isabelle has been in coma for a week and five days.

He was counting, counting till the very day those amber eyes would look at him with any sort of emotion. It didn't matter if she would look angry, so long as her eyes were opened, that would be enough for him.

“Please, please, wake up. I'm trying so hard to hide it but am fucking terrified.”

She didn't say anything. The only response he got were beeping machines.

“You're scaring me, Isabelle. If you don't wake up soon, I'll be forced to join you wherever you are.”

Still no response.

He lowered his head into his palms, his heart beating rapidly. He could feel it banging against his chest, like it could explode at any moment.

“I think I should sedate myself. That way, we both stay unconscious. What do you think?”

Isabelle lay on the bed, unable to give him a response.

“You know, I usually hated that you spoke a lot and defiled every order that I give, but now, I need you talking. I don't care what you say to me. You could say you hate me and I'll still fucking take it. You can say anything you want but don't you dare leave me.” He waited, but no stir from her. “What am I supposed to do with myself while you're gone? Huh? I’ve never really liked being at the receiving end of suspense… and you lying here without speaking to me is all shades of suspense,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

But nothing happened. The only noise he heard were the beeping machines.

☪—-----------☪

One thing Alessandro had learnt during the stages of becoming a Made Man was—never let your enemies know your next move. It was easier that way. It made you stay steps ahead.

Which was why he acknowledged the Moretti family dinner. They didn't know what was coming. But one thing he did know was,

Someone would die tonight.

Who it was supposed to be?

Only time would tell.

When he walked in alongside with his brothers—Nicholas, Luciano, Marco and Sergei, he met his relatives sitting and having a conversation like they didn't fucking plan to kill his wife… like they didn't fucking sending men to finish her in Newyork.

They trespassed on what was his, now it was the day of reckoning.

“Ahan! That's the son we're proud of,” Alfonso acknowledged, pointing at him, bringing it to the relatives notice that Alessandro had arrived.

His blood boiled within him, but he kept it cool. He looked at Marco, and Marco knew what the look was for, so his underboss walked back to the entrance door and locked them all in.

Their eyes strayed from him to Marco who just locked the door, but no one dared to say anything.

When every one was seated, silence fell in the room. The only noise that was heard was the clicking of plates and spoons… or rather forks.

“How's that wife of yours doing?” Antonio, his father asked.

Alessandro’s grip on the spoon tightened. The fake concern for her state of health got on his nerves and he couldn't wait to be done and dusted with this.

“She's in a coma, isn't she?” Sebastian chipped in.

“Yes,” Marco answered flatly.

“Well, I do hope she never wakes up again. That's what murderers deserve,” Antonio added, his words showing that the act of pity was only an act.

That was it. Alessandro had it up to his neck. “A little birdie told me my wife was attacked in Newyork,” he started, twirling his fingers around the glass, a cold stare fixed on each of them. There wasn't really a birdie, he found that out himself but he wasn't going to tell them that.

If what he was feeling right now with Isabelle's unconscious state was suspense, then they should get to feel the same way too.

Luca coughed, grabbing a glass of water. “What do you mean by attack? You mean she was a target?”

Alessandro leaned into the chair. “Why ask me? You should know about this.”

He almost laughed at the look on their faces. Colour had completely drained from their faces, making them look pale.

Signs of guilt.

“W-what… what do you mean by that?” Luca questioned, suddenly feeling the need to become defensive.

“I meant exactly what I said.”

“You all look like you've just seen ghosts,” Nicholas teased, raising his glass in the air. “Cheers.”

“Cheers to the doom that is to come,” Marco responded, raising his glass in the air.

“Alessandro, you seem to be hinting at something, yet you aren't saying anything either,” Ferdinand said, and just like others, he looked pale. 

Alessandro scoffed, gaze blazing with fury “You all are wasting my time. I did say a little birdie told me my wife was attacked in Newyork and at this point, I expect you all to finish up the story.”

“How are we supposed to know what happens next?” Alfonso asked quietly, his hands trembling.

Alessandro moved his gaze to his father. The man had been awfully quiet since. Maybe he knew, he knew Alessandro was onto him. Antonio's eyes darted randomly to corners of the room and even to the exit, but there was no way of escape. 

“You should know what happens next. You're part of the story,” Luciano mocked, enjoying every bit of the mind game.

“Are you… are you accusing us for the attack on your wife?” Luca asked.

“Accusations are for losers who aren't really sure of their allegations. So no, I'm not accusing you. You sent men to attack my wife.”

“What is she feeding you with? More lies?” Antonio finally chipped in. “I raised you better than this.”

“You didn't raise me at all. You were too busy, all stuck up in your life's affairs. You never really had time for me.”

“Luciano, how can you sit there and let your brother utter nonsense. He seems to forget he's at the relatives dinner.”

“Antonio, this is your problem. Don't make the mistake of thinking I want to be involved. Because, I don't.”

“Did you or did you not orchestrate the hit on her?” Alessandro asked, slowly losing his resolve, his hand going for his gun.

Antonio noticed the hand movement. “I didn't.”

“Oh my fucking Lord, I can't stand bad liars,” Alessandro stated, firing the gun upwards.

The sound resonated through the room, and all the relatives lowered their heads for safety.

“Alessandro! What has gotten into you!” Ferdinand reprimanded, even though his voice was fidgety.

Antonio stood up and Alessandro followed suit.

“She deserves to die. She's the reason your mother is dead. You're foolish… foolish to have fallen in lo—”

A bullet stopped the next words from spilling out. One that went straight into his forehead.

“Alessan—”

Another bullet went into his chest, stopping him again.

All the relatives sprang to their feet, horrified. 

“I warned you. I did say that no one touches my wife but me.”

Then he shot another bullet, aiming for the column of Antonio’s throat, causing blood to pour out uncontrollably.

Antonio jerked like he was being electrocuted, one hand to his bleeding chest and the other hand to his throat. He was trying to stop the bleeding.

Alessandro stood still, watching…

Even after watching his father fall to the ground, he didn't feel any form of satisfaction at all. 

And he fucking knew why.