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When the Last Rejection Turned Into a Plea Novel Cover

When the Last Rejection Turned Into a Plea

Claire Marone is dying of leukemia, yet her husband, mafia Don Rocco Falcone, continues to ignore her pleas. When she finally attempts to file for divorce, Rocco and her mother confront her with violence and accusations of deception, believing she is merely faking illness to overshadow Sofia Moretti. Faced with a family that offers only cruelty instead of comfort, Claire prepares for her own cremation, determined to sever all ties before her time runs out.
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Chapter 4

Lily saw the blood at the corner of my mouth, and her expression softened for a second. At that moment, I saw a glimpse of the loving mom she used to be through her eyes.

However, the next second, Sofia started crying louder. Lily quickly looked away and turned to comfort her "beloved daughter". "How are you feeling, sweetheart? Should I call a doctor?"

I wiped the blood off with the back of my hand and slowly got up from the floor.

A rundown suitcase sat in the corner with the handful of clothes I owned. I had it ready for a while. For the past few days, I had been preparing to leave.

They stared at me in disbelief, then hit me with biting sarcasm.

Anthony's expression was stone-cold. "What is this? Do you think you're too big for the family now? Are you just going to leave?

"Everything we do is to discipline you for your own good, Claire. Why can't you see we only want what is best for you?"

Lily pressed me. "Do you think running away solves your problem? You never change, Claire. You always run away the second things get hard. I suppose Anthony is right. We've ended up with a daughter who is good for nothing."

After gently setting Sofia on the bed, Rocco turned to me. The look in his eyes was chilling and filled with contempt. "Where are you going?"

I replied, "I'm leaving the Falcone family's turf."

He raised his voice sharply. "Do you have any idea what you're saying, Claire? The second you step out of our territory, you're not one of us anymore. You'll also be the target for every enemy we have."

I was so used to being let down that it didn't even faze me. After hearing the same threat so many times, I stopped being scared of losing this "family" anymore. They never gave me that sense of being at home.

I dragged my suitcase to the door. "Great. I don't belong here anyway."

After all, I already had one foot in the grave.

Pulling my suitcase, I made my way to the door and didn't turn back.

Seeing me like that hit Rocco like a punch to the gut. He had a sinking feeling that something was off. Every harsh word he said felt like he was tearing his heart out, but his pride and rage wouldn't let him see straight.

He told himself that I was the cause of his pain. He blamed my weakness and incompetence for his suffering.

Yet, he still didn't understand what was happening to him, so he shattered a glass in frustration.

The sound of shattering glass erupted behind me. Shards scattered across the floor, glinting under the light.

Rocco stood by the window on the second floor, his eyes filled with rage. His voice quivered as he yelled, "Get back here, Claire!"

I halted and took one last look at the place I once called home. Moonlight washed over the villa's walls, making the place feel cold and empty.

I said firmly, "If I ever look back, I'll lose everything I love."

The night air hit me the second I walked out of the gate. It smelled like freedom, but it also carried a hint of something final.

Rocco watched from the window as I left. My parting words made him shudder.

He knew I was in bad shape. The fear of something happening to me in the freezing night gnawed at him.

He longed to tell me that he didn't mean to exile me from the family. He never wanted me gone.

Everything in him wanted to chase after me, but then Sofia turned and grinned sweetly at him. "Don't you see, Rocco? After hitting rock bottom, she'll come crawling back to you. She'll learn the hard way that she is nobody without the Falcone family's protection."

The words made Rocco's chest tighten with a hint of irritation he couldn't name.

He dropped his gaze without a word. No one noticed his clenched fists trembling, or the blood dripping from where his nails cut into his palms.

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