The Donna Left, The Don Went Crazy Chapter 08

The Donna Left, The Don Went Crazy Chapter 08

The Rainier family’s declaration of war was like a nuclear bomb, destroying half of the Alexander family’s influence overnight

As revenge from the Rainier family, this was only the beginning.

That night, a bulletproof Rolls-Royce flying a white flag stopped at the gates of the Rainier castle.

Alexander’s mother, the once-arrogant donna, walked in alone.

She looked ten years older, her air of insufferable superiority completely gone.

Ivy met her in the drawing room.

“Ivy… no, Miss Rainier.” She looked at Ivy, her eyes complex, holding a trace of fear. “I am not here to beg for mercy. I know that ungrateful son of mine has committed unforgivable sins.”

She took a thick stack of documents from her bag and pushed them towards Ivy.

“These are the deeds to one-third of our family’s territory in Sicily, and the control rights to our two most profitable shipping routes in the Mediterranean.”

“This is compensation. I only ask that the Rainier family spare Alexander’s life.”

Vincent, standing behind Ivy, scoffed coldly. “You think this little offering buys a life?”

The donna took a deep breath, as if making a final resolution.

“I have convened the Commissione. Given that Alexander’s foolish actions have caused the family colossal losses, he has been officially removed from his position as Don.”

“From today on, he is no longer the Godfather. He is just a commoner with nothing.”

“This is the last thing I can do as a mother.”

Ivy looked at the documents on the table, feeling not a ripple of emotion.

“Fine.” She gathered the deeds, her tone as cold as if concluding a business deal. “As long as he never appears in front of me again, the Rainier family will cease attacks.”

“We are even.”

The donna looked at Ivy’s resolute profile, moved her lips as if to speak, but ultimately said nothing and turned to leave.

Although a truce had been reached, Alexander did not keep his promise.

The next night, during a violent storm.

Ivy stood on the third-floor terrace of the castle, swirling a glass of crimson wine.

Outside the castle’s iron gates, a man soaked to the bone was kneeling.

It was Alexander.

Gone was his usual swagger. His clothes were tattered, his face covered in stubble, looking like a stray dog.

In the mud beside him lay a mangled heap of flesh-it was Elena.

She hadn’t been fed to the dogs; Alexander had dragged her back from hell at the last moment.

She had been tortured beyond recognition. Her limbs were twisted at grotesque angles, and her tongue had been cut out, allowing her to only make guttural “ah-ah” sounds of misery.

Alexander dragged Elena, who looked like a dead dog, and screamed his lungs out toward the balcony:

“Ivy! My Princess! I know you are watching!”

“I brought this bitch to you! I broke her hands and feet myself! You can do whatever you want with her! Chop her up and teed her to the dogs for all I care!”

“I don’t want the position of Godfather! I don’t want the family! I only want you!”

“Please… just see me once! Even if you kill me to vent your anger, it’s fine! Just don’t ignore me!”

Rain mixed with mud washed over his face; it was impossible to tell if it was rain or tears.

He slammed his head against the hard iron bars again and again. Blood streamed from his forehead, quickly turning the puddle beneath him red.

“Ivy-! I was really wrong-!”

His mournful wails pierced through the curtain of rain, shocking anyone who heard them.

Ivy looked down at the scene, her eyes colder than the ice in her glass.

Once, if he even frowned, her heart would ache for half the day.

Now, watching him kneel in the mud begging for love like a dog, she only found it laughable.

“Vincent,” she called softly.

Her brother stepped out of the shadows. “Want me to put a bullet in him?”

Ivy took a sip of red wine and shook her head indifferently. “No need. That would dirty the Rainier family’s land.”

She turned her back on the storm and the desperate man.

“Close the curtains.”

“This bulletproof glass has good soundproofing. Don’t let him disturb my sleep.”

Vincent didn’t even glance at Elena, who was being dragged away like a carcass. Instead, he turned his head, his azure eyes locking onto Alexander coldly.

“Ivy doesn’t want to see you. But since you refuse to leave, as the Underboss of the Rainier family, I should collect some interest for my sister.”

He drew a silver revolver from his waist, deftly swung out the cylinder, dumped the bullets, and left only three.

Click.

With a flick of his wrist, the cylinder spun wildly before snapping back into place. He tossed the gun into the mud at Alexander’s 、 feet.

“Russian Roulette. The oldest rule of the Mafia.”

Vincent lit a cigar and looked down at him. “You want forgiveness? Prove your sincerity. Fire three shots at yourself. If you’re lucky enough to survive, I’ll let you get lost. If you die, you’ll make good fertilizer for the rose field.”

Alexander looked at the gun on the ground without hesitation.

As long as it could quell Ivy’s anger, he wouldn’t hesitate even if it meant going to hell.

He bent down, picked up the cold revolver, and pressed the muzzle directly against his left thigh.

“This shot is for my blindness and for trusting the wrong person.”

Bang!

The gun fired. It wasn’t a blank.

The bullet instantly pierced his thigh muscle. The agonizing pain forced him to one knee, but he didn’t even frown.

Alexander gritted his teeth, his hand trembling as he moved the gun up and pressed it against his abdomen.

“This shot is for hurting Ivy’s body and killing our child.”

Bang!

Another live round.

Blood instantly stained his white shirt red. The severe pain in his abdomen nearly made him faint, but he forced himself to stay upright.

He looked at the tightly closed window on the third floor, his vision blurring.

One shot left.

Alexander took a deep breath and shakily aimed the gun at his own heart.

“Ivy… if I don’t die from this shot, will you forgive me?”

He closed his eyes, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Just in the nick of time, a leather shoe kicked his wrist hard.

The pistol flew out of his hand, sliding far across the ground.

Vincent looked at the blood-soaked Alexander with disgust, as if looking at a bag of non-recyclable trash.

“Enough. Take your dirty blood and get out. Don’t soil my sister’s territory.”

He turned and walked through the gates, leaving Alexander with only a ruthless silhouette.

“Drag him away too. Dump him at the nearest hospital entrance. Don’t let him die at the manor gates; it’s bad luck.” Alexander collapsed in a pool of blood, watching the window that never opened, until his consciousness faded into darkness.