Regrets for the Mafia Don

I turned down Raffaello's offer, but on the day of Sofia's concert, he still dragged me along.

Lorenzo was, no doubt, irritated.

"Daddy, why are you taking her along? This is Sofia's important day! What if she spoils everything?"

Raffaello patted Lorenzo's head, soothingly saying, "I'm here. She won't dare to bully Sofia."

The temperature up on the snowy mountains was very cold. My injuries had not fully recovered yet, so I was also having a little bit of a fever.

I was so cold I could barely speak, let alone do whatever imaginary cruelty they accused me of.

However, this was not what Sofia wanted. She deliberately came up to me and said, "Grace, listen to this. Doesn't it sound familiar?"

I carefully listen to the music. Each drumbeat struck straight against my chest, stirring memories I had long buried.

Of course, I was familiar with the music.

Before my vocal cords got destroyed, I was a rather well-known singer in New Wark City. The piece that Sofia was about to perform that day was a song that I had composed for Raffaello and Lorenzo.

Before I could release the music, however, my vocal cords were damaged by the virus, and everything was shelved.

Seeing how stunned I was, Sofia said smugly in a whisper, "You're covered with injuries. Do you think you're good enough for Raffaello, Grace? Your existence will only humiliate them.

"If you know any better, you'll leave them once and for all. Your husband, your son, your wealth, will end up just like this song. It'll all be mine."

I frowned and looked at her with contempt. I grabbed her wrist, saying, "Sofia, you monster! How dare you play tricks like this! I'll expose you for who you really are!"

She flashed me a malicious smile.

Then, the next second, she screamed in pain. "Ahh! My hand! It hurts!"

A strong force knocked me back. Raffaello appeared from behind me and went up to urgently check on Sofia.

"Raffaello, don't take it out on Grace. Her voice is damaged, so she can't sing anymore… I shouldn't have invited her to my concert. It'll only dredge sad memories."

Raffaello kicked me right in the chest as I fell into the pile of snow.

My lungs started to hurt; it felt like a thousand needles pricking them all at once. It was so painful that I could barely breathe. I could even taste blood.

"I-I grabbed her gently! How could it hurt? Also, that song–"

Before I could say anything, Raffaello stomped on my hand. I heard a loud crack as my bones broke.

The next second, a sharp jab of pain coursed through my entire body, and I screamed.

I could not speak at all.

Raffaello didn't let go of his foot. He snarled, "You really should just die, Grace. Sofia's hands are what she works with. If anything happens, I'll cut yours off to give it to her!"

Sofia kept yelling about how much it hurt, so she could not proceed with the concert.

Raffaello called the helicopter to get them down the mountain. "You need to get your hand checked. Once we're down the mountain, I'll take you to the hospital."

He carefully guided Sofia into the helicopter as Lorenzo worriedly followed suit.

I was once again left behind as the helicopter could only fit three people besides the pilot.

Before entering the helicopter, Raffaello said to me icily, "You'll have to give up your spot to Sofia. Treat it as repayment for what you did to her. You get down the mountain on your own."

The helicopter flew into the sky, getting smaller and smaller until it was just a dot.

I could feel another asthma attack coming. Breathing got harder for me, and I fell to the snow listlessly. I wanted to scream for help, but I could not make a sound at all as the sound of the helicopter overpowered me.

Suddenly, a thunderous boom rumbled.

An avalanche.

Guests screamed and scattered. The experienced Underboss shouted instructions, leading people to safety.

I was forgotten.

Snow poured down like a white tide.

Every breath I forced into my lungs felt sharp as ice shards, stabbing deep into my chest.

Just before the snow buried me, I pulled out my phone with my uninjured hand.

I wanted to send Raffaello a message to call for help–but what I saw was a photo that Sofia had sent.

In the photo, Raffaello was gently holding her injured hand, blowing on it to soothe her pain.

Lorenzo had taken off his coat to keep her warm.

I chuckled bitterly and gave up the thought of asking for rescue. I let the snow bury me in.

My breathing got lighter as my eyelids grew heavier.

Goodbye, Raffaello. We would never see each other again in this lifetime.