The Don’s Fallen Queen Chapter 10

The Don’s Fallen Queen Chapter 10

His throat seemed completely blocked. He couldn’t even force out a full sentence.

Sierra bent down and gently picked up her daughter.

“Go back to bed.”

The little girl nodded obediently, but she still looked curiously at Dante.

“Mister… why are you crying?”

Only then did Dante realize his face was covered in tears. His fists clenched so tightly he could barely remain standing.

It rained the entire night.

Dante never left the bookstore entrance once.

Even after Sierra pulled the curtains shut, she could still see his silhouette through the narrow gap in the fabric.

His black coat was soaked through completely, but he acted like he couldn’t feel the cold. He simply stood there in silence, occasionally glancing up toward the lit window on the second floor.

Suddenly, Sierra found herself remembering years ago.

Back then, Dante wasn’t yet the most feared man on the East Coast. He was just a young man beginning to rise—dangerous, ambitious, carrying the kind of reckless charm that ruined people.

Everyone at school warned her to stay away from him.

Until she watched him slowly grind her entire life into pieces.

A soft noise came from upstairs.

Her daughter padded out of the bedroom clutching a stuffed rabbit and carefully leaned against her side.

“Mommy… that man’s still outside.”

Sierra lowered her eyes and gave a quiet hum in response.

The little girl tilted her head up at her.

“Do you know him?”

Sierra stayed silent for a very long time before finally answering softly—

“I used to.”

“How long ago was that?”

Sierra looked out at the rain for a moment.

“…Back when Mommy still believed in fairytales.”

The little girl clearly didn’t understand, only blinking up at her sleepily.

Sierra gently fixed her messy hair and carried her back to bed.

But after her daughter fell asleep again, Sierra couldn’t sleep at all.

Right before dawn, a heavy thud suddenly sounded outside the front door. Her heart sank instantly.

She rushed downstairs and yanked the door open.

Freezing rain blew straight into her face.

Dante had collapsed beside the steps.

His face was frighteningly pale, his forehead burning hot like he’d been running a fever for hours.

Sierra stood there silently, her fingers tightening little by little at her sides.

She should’ve shut the door.

She should’ve done what she’d spent the last three years doing—keep him completely outside her world.

But then she looked down at the small box of strawberry cake still clenched tightly in his unconscious hand, and something sharp twisted violently through her chest.

It was a pain she knew far too well.

That ache had tortured her for years.

She recognized it instantly.

Ten minutes later, Dante was lying inside the storage room behind the bookstore.

While cleaning his wounds, Sierra discovered a deep knife wound across his shoulder that looked recent.

The fever left him barely conscious, yet he still instinctively grabbed her wrist the moment she tried to move away.

“Don’t go…”

His voice was so low she almost couldn’t hear it.

“Sierra… please don’t leave me…”

Her movements froze.

The Don Moretti she once knew would never have spoken like that.

That man only gave orders. Only took what he wanted. Only assumed she would stay forever.

But now, even holding onto her hand seemed to make him tremble.

Sierra closed her eyes briefly and pulled her wrist free.

“You’re delirious from the fever.”

Dante slowly forced his eyes open.

He stared at her for a very long time, like he was terrified this was another hallucination.

“I searched for you for three years.”

“I know.”

“I went everywhere.”

“I know.”

“Sierra.” His voice turned hoarse. “You never looked back. Not even once.”

At last, she lifted her eyes to meet his.

“And what about you?”

Dante froze.

Sierra looked at him quietly, her voice soft enough to hurt.

“During my first year at that club… I waited for you every single day.”