Divorced & Dying The Mafia Boss Regrets Everything Chapter 17

Divorced & Dying The Mafia Boss Regrets Everything Chapter 17

It was Finnegan who should be angry.

God only knew how shocked he had been when Henry burst into his office, glasses askew, clutching that

contract.

Who could understand how he felt when he saw that agreement? It made his skin crawl.

The first thing he did was have his son bring his granddaughter over immediately, and he rushed straight to

Grace’s place.

As the car drove into a dark, crowded neighborhood of tiny rental apartments, Finnegan’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper. No wonder Grace had been on the verge of shouting at him: “Is this your real granddaughter? If she is, why would you bring her here!?”

“…Hurry up and take her ”

Before he could finish, the warm, soft bundle was gently placed in Grace’s arms. She froze, staring at the warmth radiating from her arms and stomach and the baby’s milky scent.

It softened her heart and calmed her mind.

Grace held her breath, gazing at the sleepy baby in her arms until her eyes stung. Then she looked up at Finnegan and at Henry, who had been watching her for who knew how long.

Finnegan lowered his voice. “She’s adorable, isn’t she? You like her, don’t you? If you like her, keep her a few more years. She’s so small–how could she possibly bear that kind of weight?”

How could such a little thing bear so much?

Grace understood what he meant. She smiled without speaking and looked down at the new life in her arms

A lasting, eternal peace took root in her heart.

She thought of her aunt, who had left so suddenly.

Her aunt had once joked that if she ever had a child, she should give her one a girl, not a boy, because boys

were too wild.

If her aunt were still alive, and if she and Dominic hadn’t fallen apart, maybe it could have happened.

But Grace was only dreaming. She didn’t have many days left. She had already decided: today, she had fulfilled her promise, given her big gift, held Finnegan’s grandson. She had no regrets.

As soon as they left, she would end it.

The sedatives she had been hiding little by little were enough. Otherwise, once she couldn’t move anymore,

it would be too late.

With her slender, too thin wrists, she carefully handed the sleeping baby back to Finnegan, gave her one last reluctant look, and smiled at them.

“All right, I’ve held her and seen her enough. You can go. Oh, and I’m moving back to the Hamptons in a

couple of days. When the full moon banquet comes, you’d better come pick me up in person, or you’ll be

sorry.”

Only then did Finnegan truly relax and smile.

Henry just stood there, staring at her. Grace looked at him. “All right, I’m counting on you for the move.

Don’t give me that long face.”

Finally, Henry’s expression eased. Grace waved them away. “Go on, go on. I’m exhausted. I won’t see you

ongo

out.”

Finnegan shifted his granddaughter in his arms. “All right, you promised. You really have to come.”

The door closed. Grace waited until the sound of the car engine had faded into the distance. She stood up unsteadily, took a few vials from the nightstand, and sat back down by the window.

The smell of cooking drifted in from outside. Grace breathed it in and gradually calmed down. She rolled up her sleeve, looked uncertainly for a vein, and tore open the package.

First try, she missed.

Second try, still no vein.

Third try, sweat pouring down her face, she finally seemed to find the right spot and slowly pushed the

overdose in.

Her hand holding the needle suddenly went weak, but Grace forced herself to push in the last bit.

She kept hearing Dominic’s voice calling her name. Then, through the haze, she heard a loud crash, and the illusion of Dominic grew clearer. His face was unexpectedly full of terror.

Sometimes Grace really wanted to spit in her own face.

Why was she still thinking about this man even when she was dying?