Reborn: I Quit Being the Mafia’s Stand-In Chapter 07
I stood as rigid as a puppet, letting him crush me until my ribs ached.
“You can keep my body, but you’ll never keep my heart.” My voice held absolutely no emotion. ”
Alexander, I will never forgive you.”
His body violently jerked. Then, his arms tightened even more as he whispered with paranoid obsession, As long as you are by my side, nothing else matters.
We have time.”
I was locked once again in the massive master bedroom belonging to the Don. The door clicked, locked from the outside.
After a week of this, I pushed him to the brink by threatening my own life, finally earning the chance to see Victor one last time.
I collapsed onto the floor before a blood–soaked Victor.
Victor’s seemingly glazed dark eyes instantly
sharpened, In a voice so quiet only the two of us could hear, he murmured:
“I am the bait. Play along. Tonight at eight.”
I closed my eyes tightly, swallowing every ounce of trembling. Victor, that absolute lunatic. He was actually using himself as bait.
7:00 PM.
told Alexander I had prepared a dinner for him.
Fifteen minutes later, Alexander pushed open the door. Looking at the candlelight flickering on the
table, his eyes turned red. Almost in disbelief, he pulled out the chair next to mine.
“You actually asked for me…” He stared at me intently. “Eleanor, I knew you still loved me…”
To a new beginning,” I cut off his delusion. Using my heavily bandaged hand, I struggled to raise the glass
of dark red wine in front of me.
Ten minutes earlier, when no one was watching, the high–concentration sedative I had dropped neatly dissolved into his glass, utterly colorless and odorless.
Seeing me voluntarily raise my glass, Alexander completely dropped his stiff guard. On that face that had once been so ruthlessly cold to me, nothing remained but pathetic humility and sickening satisfaction.
He picked up his glass without a shred of hesitation.
“To our future,” he said, his voice dripping with affection.
I stared dead at the rim of the glass as it touched his lips. The blood–red liquid slid down his throat.
Drink it, Alexander. Because this is the end I’m gifting you.
The goblet stopped midway. Confusion crossed his face before the sedative dragged him under. The glass slipped from his grip, shattering on the floor. His massive frame swayed, and he collapsed sideways.
At exactly eight o’clock, the estate shuddered. A muffled boom echoed from the east wing, followed tightly by automatic gunfire.
I slipped out of the suite. The guards‘ shouts were quickly silenced by Victor’s advancing team. I reached the grand foyer just as the front doors were blown inward.
Through the dust strode a line of armed men in black gear, but my eyes locked onto the figure at their center. Victor.
His shirt was torn and bloodstained, but the moment his gaze found me, I fell into his chest, clutching him tightly.
“You’re safe,” Victor rasped, wrapping his arms.
around me firmly. “I’ve got you, Eleanor.”
“He’s upstairs,” I breathed. “Drugged.”
Victor gave a nod to his men. “Bring him down.”
Ten minutes later, the foyer was secured. Two operatives dragged a semi–conscious Alexander down the sweeping staircase, tossing him onto the shattered marble.
The impact jolted Alexander awake. The drug still slurred his movements, but understanding dawned in his bloodshot eyes as he saw the seized foyer, the armed men, and Victor holding me.
A guttural snarl tore from his throat. He tried to lunge at Victor, but his heavy limbs betrayed him, leaving him trembling on his knees.
Victor smoothly unholstered his pistol and placed the cold grip into my palm.
“He took your freedom,” Victor said, his voice steady. “His life belongs to you. End this.”
Silence fell over the room.
Alexander looked up. A twisted, feverish anticipation lit up his eyes. He thrust his chest out, staring down the barrel.
“Do it,” Alexander spat. “Shoot me! Hate me forever! If you pull that trigger, my blood will be on your hands. I will haunt you until your dying day!”
He wanted this. In his warped mind, being murdered by me was proof that he mattered enough to break me.
However, I lowered the gun.
Alexander’s grin faltered. “What are you doing? Shoot me!”
I dropped the weapon.
“No,” I said quietly. “You don’t get to be my trauma anymore.”
“Eleanor…” Panic bled into his voice. “You hate me. I know you hate me!”
“I don’t hate you,” I replied, meeting his eyes calmly. ”
I feel nothing for you. From this moment on, I will never think of you again.”
I turned my back on him, reached out, and took Victor’s hand.
Behind me, a gut–wrenching wail tore from Alexander’s throat. To be hated was to be remembered. Apathy was absolute erasure.
“No! Eleanor, look at me!”
I didn’t turn back. Victor and I walked toward the open doors.
A sudden scrape echoed behind us. Alexander had snatched the discarded gun, frantically loading a spare magazine. Victor pushed me behind him, his own weapon drawn.
But Alexander didn’t aim at us. Kneeling in the ruins of his empire, staring at my retreating back, he pressed the barrel flush beneath his jaw. The realization that I truly didn’t care had broken the last thread of his sanity.
“I am sorry,” he whispered.
The gunshot rang out, loud and definitive. He hit the floor heavily.
Six months later.
I stood on the wooden deck of our coastal home, watching the sunset over the Mediterranean. The scars on my hands were faint now–maps of a life I had survived, not the one I lived.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind. Victor rested his chin on my shoulder, pulling me against his solid chest. The steady beat of his heart was grounding.
“The sunset is beautiful tonight,” he murmured, kissing the side of my neck.
I leaned back, intertwining my fingers with his. The weight of the past was gone, replaced by a profound peace.
“It really is,” I smiled, turning to catch his lips with mine.
For the first time, the future didn’t feel like a cage. It was entirely ours.
THE END