Dante Morelli

The sky was gray, as if it were also in mourning.

Luisa fell to her knees before the coffin, her black dress clinging to the damp mud, her chest heaving with sobs. The violet flowers were the only thing that still seemed to have life in the face of so much death.

"Claraaaaa!" he shouted with a heartbreaking force, as if by pronouncing her name he could bring her back from the beyond.

Clara. Her only friend. Her chosen sister. The only one who spoke to her without fear, even in front of her mafia boss husband, Dante Morelli.

He was behind her, kneeling, hugging her tightly. His face, normally impassive, was now soaked in tears. He had never liked Clara, because he saw her as a threat, someone who could take Luisa away from him. But he never wanted her to die. Never like that. Not in an attack aimed at him. Clara had received the bullet that was intended for his wife.

Luisa trembled. Her body couldn't bear the pain, the rage, or the guilt. And her belly… her belly, already swollen with pregnancy, throbbed along with her broken heart.

—Love, please… —Dante pleaded—. Breathe, my life… think of our baby…

But Luisa couldn't take it anymore.

Her body faded in his arms, falling unconscious like a rootless flower. Dante held her tightly, not letting go, shouting her name over and over again.

"LUISA! MY LOVE, AWAKE!" he roared, his voice breaking.

The funeral guests approached with alarm. A doctor that Dante always kept among his men ran to her.

The most feared mafia boss, the man who made entire cities tremble, trembled like a child hugging his unconscious wife, begging heaven not to take her away too.

At that moment, Dante understood everything: He could have power, weapons, money, enemies trembling beneath his feet.

The sky was gray, as if it were also mourning.

Luisa fell to her knees before the coffin, her black dress clinging to the damp mud, her chest heaving with sobs. The violet flowers were the only thing that still seemed to have life in the face of so much death.

"Claraaaaa!" he shouted with a heartbreaking force, as if by pronouncing her name he could bring her back from the beyond.

Clara. Her only friend. Her chosen sister. The only one who spoke to her without fear, even in front of her mafia boss husband, Dante Morelli.

He was behind her, kneeling, hugging her tightly. His face, normally impassive, was now soaked in tears. He had never liked Clara, because he saw her as a threat, someone who could take Luisa away from him. But he never wanted her to die. Never like that. Not in an attack aimed at him. Clara had received the bullet that was intended for his wife.

Luisa trembled. Her body couldn't bear the pain, the rage, or the guilt. And her belly… her belly, already swollen with pregnancy, throbbed along with her broken heart.

—Love, please… —Dante pleaded—. Breathe, my life… think of our baby…

But Luisa couldn't take it anymore.

Her body faded in his arms, falling unconscious like a rootless flower. Dante held her tightly, not letting go, shouting her name over and over again.

"LUISA! MY LOVE, AWAKE!" he roared, his voice breaking.

The funeral guests approached with alarm. A doctor that Dante always kept among his men ran to her.

The most feared mafia boss, the man who made entire cities tremble, trembled like a child hugging his unconscious wife, begging heaven not to take her away too.

At that moment, Dante understood everything: He could have power, weapons, money, enemies trembling beneath his feet.