My Mafia Ex-Boyfriend Went Crazy After Learning of My Death Chapter 05

My Mafia Ex-Boyfriend Went Crazy After Learning of My Death Chapter 05: The Diary (Part Two)

Dante kept reading.

March 7, 2022

Chemo hurts so bad. My hair is falling out in clumps. I put on a wig and deal cards at the casino. Customers touch my hand. I smile and pour them drinks. Fifty dollar tip. Enough for two boxes of painkillers.

I miss him so much. Did he make it to Italy? Does he think about me? No, he must hate me by now.

Let him hate me. Hate is easier to live with than love.

May 6, 2022

Today I passed an electronics store. There was a news report on the TV in the window. “Dante Visconti, the new Don of the Visconti family.” He was wearing a suit, standing in front of a villa in Rome. He’s thinner, but he looks strong.

I watched the screen and smiled for a long time. The shop owner thought I was crazy.

I am crazy. Crazy for him.

June 1, 2022

Good news! The hospital says my heart is a match for Lena’s son, Luca. Luca has a heart condition. Without a transplant, he won’t live past five.

If I die, my heart can save him.

That’s the only value I have after I’m gone.

July 23, 2022

My body is getting worse. I’m down to eighty pounds. Even my wig won’t stay on. Mama Rosa came to see me. She said when I was unconscious, I kept calling a name. She couldn’t make it out. But I know. I was calling Dante.

I want to see him one last time.

But I can’t. I look like a skeleton now. I’d scare him. And if he came, he’d learn the truth. I don’t want him to feel guilty for the rest of his life.

Let him hate me. Hate is so much lighter than love.

August 9, 2022

I’m dying.

My body feels like it’s sinking, like falling into black seawater.

Dante, I love you. From the first time I saw you outside the fight club, to the moment you knelt on the ground and begged me not to leave — I loved you every second.

If there’s a next life, I don’t want to be your weakness anymore. I want to be your knife, your bullet, the bellflower on your chest.

If there’s no next life, then I’ll wait for you in hell.

Don’t come. You have to live.

Goodbye, my love.

— Nora

The last page of the diary was barely legible, the letters crooked.

Below it, Lena had added a line in different handwriting.

“She died with her hand around the dried bellflower you gave her. We cremated it with her, over her heart. Your name was her last breath.”

Dante closed the diary.

Then he started destroying the study.

Chairs, lamps, books from the shelves, paintings on the walls — he smashed everything. His fists shattered the glass display case. Blood went everywhere. He knelt in the broken glass and let out an animal roar.

No one dared come in.

I floated beside him, staying with him, crying with him.

“I hate myself,” he said. “I hate that I hated you for three years. I hate that I planned a wedding. I hate that I didn’t come back sooner.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said. “It’s my fault. I pretended not to love you.”

He couldn’t hear me.

He lay on the floor, picked up the diary, and pressed it against his face.

Then he went quiet.

He stayed quiet for a long time.

When dawn came, he stood up and called Rocco.

“Cancel the wedding. Tell Marco to gather all the Capos. Tonight, I’m declaring war on the Lucchese family.”