The 33rd Divorce from the Don Chapter 08

The 33rd Divorce from the Don Chapter 08

Adela’s POV

Forrest walked in-tall, handsome, gray-blue eyes filled with concern. He strode to my side, asked quietly in Italian: “Everything okay?”

Then leaned down and kissed my forehead.

“Don’t you fucking TOUCH her!” Massimo roared, trying to stand.

The guards immediately pinned him down.

Forrest raised an eyebrow, looked at me: “Who’s this?”

“An ex who can’t take a hint,” I said coolly. “He’s nobody.”

“Adela!” Massimo’s eyes went bloodshot. ‘How DARE you-how dare you let him touch you?!”

“Who’s going to stop me?” I turned to look at him, eyes ice-cold. “Massimo, we’ve been divorced for years. Who I’m with is none of your damn business.

“And- I raised my left hand.

On my ring finger, a pink diamond caught the light.

I’m getting married.”

Massimo’s face went chalk-white. Like someone had sucked all the life out of him.

“No… impossible… he muttered. “You CAN’T marry someone else… you’re MINE… you can only be mine…”

“I was NEVER yours,” I said, each word a blade. ‘I was your toy. Your tool. Your replacement for filling the void.

‘Now this toy is done playing.”

Forrest wrapped an arm around my waist, tone polite but eyes warning: I’d calm down if I were you. Or we can dump you in the ocean.

“Get him out, I told the guards. “Ban him. Permanently.”

‘Adela! Massimo struggled, voice raw with desperation. ‘Please… don’t… don’t marry him…”

1:41 am

The 33rd Divorce from the Don

“I love you! I REALLY love you! Please, just give me one more chance-

“Too bad, I turned away, took Forrest’s arm, didn’t look back. ‘I don’t love you anymore.”

One week later. An ancient cathedral.

Sunlight streamed through stained glass, casting kaleidoscope patterns. I wore a white haute couture wedding gown, my arm linked through Father

Alessandro’s.

‘Ready, sweetheart? Father asked quietly.

I nodded.

The organ swelled. Guests rose.

The aisle stretched long before me. With each step, I felt those eyes-blessing, envious, curious.

At the altar, Forrest stood waiting. Gray-blue eyes watching me, gaze tender.

Father placed my hand in Forrest’s: “Take care of her.”

“Always. Forrest said solemnly.

The priest opened his Bible: “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today-

The ceremony proceeded smoothly. Exchanging vows, exchanging rings. Until the priest asked:

“If anyone objects to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Silence filled the cathedral.

Then-

BOOM!

The oak doors burst open.

Sunlight flooded in, silhouetting a gaunt figure.

Massimo.

He looked worse than three months ago. Hair almost entirely white now, eye sockets sunken like a skull’s. His suit hung off his skeletal frame, flapping

loosely. Skin waxy yellow-the color of liver disease. The color of death.

“Adela… his voice came out hoarse and broken. ‘Please… don’t do this…”

Gasps filled the room.

Guards rushed from both sides, but Massimo dodged them, staggered toward the altar.

“I OBJECT!” he roared. “She’s MINE! She’ll always be MINE!”

Forrest stepped in front of me.

“Massimo Salvatore,” Forrest said calmly. “You need to leave. Now.”

“Stay OUT of this!” Massimo’s eyes were bloodshot, fixed on me. “Adela, LOOK at him-he’s using you for your family’s connections! He doesn’t love you!”

Murmurs rippled through the guests. Father Alessandro’s expression darkened.

I said nothing. Just raised my hand, slowly lifted the hem of my wedding gown.

On my outer thigh-white lace garters held a silver pistol. A Moreau woman never goes anywhere unarmed. Not even to her own wedding.

I drew the gun. Movement smooth. Calm.

Aimed it at Massimo.

“Last chance,” I said coldly. “Leave.

Massimo stopped, stared at me blankly. Then suddenly laughed-wild, broken laughter.

“You won’t… you couldn’t…” he muttered. “You loved me… you loved me so much…”

BANG!

The gunshot echoed under the vaulted ceiling.

Massimo’s right shoulder exploded in blood. He screamed, staggered backward and fell. His white suit quickly soaked through with dark red.

“Adela…” he looked at me in disbelief. “You… you actually shot me…”

Guards rushed forward, grabbed him and dragged him toward the exit.

‘Adela! ADELA!”

The doors slammed shut, cutting off his cries.

I turned around, smoothed my sleeve.

‘Father,’ I said calmly. “Continue.”

The old priest shakily adjusted his glasses, swallowed hard. Looked back at his Bible.

“Do you…” his voice trembled, ‘take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer. for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

I took a deep breath. Lifted my head.

Just as I was about to speak-

A dull gunshot rang out from outside the cathedral.

Not the sharp crack from before. This was heavier, more muffled-the sound of close-range contact to the head.

My fingers tightened slightly. The lilies in my bouquet crumpled.

Someone gasped. People stood to look toward the doors. Chaos erupted.

Forrest squeezed my hand. His hand was warm and steady.

“Adela,” he said quietly, only for me to hear. “Just answer the question.”

I looked into his eyes-those gray-blue eyes that never tried to control me, only stood beside me.

I took another deep breath, then smiled and said:

‘I do.”