The Blind Don's Unwanted Ghost Wife

I died on a filthy bed in a back-alley clinic.

I willingly sacrificed my own corneas so the Mafia man I loved could see the light of day again.

But my soul was forced to stay behind, watching another woman claim my sacrifice as her own.

Dante reclaimed his throne as the Mafia boss. Believing the lie that I had abandoned him, he unleashed his vengeance upon my family.

"Where the hell is she hiding?"

He shattered my brother's hands and drove my mother to her death. He absolutely refused to believe the fact that I was already dead, convinced instead that I was just cowering from his wrath.

It wasn't until my medical records were thrown right in his face that Dante finally realized whose eyes he was using to look at the world.

The truth drove him completely insane.

He burned the whole world down just to beg for my forgiveness.

"Gianna, please wait for me!"

Chapter 1

Gianna's POV

Dante was torturing my family, all because he needed my heart to save the woman who had stolen my eyes.

He sat on the edge of a leather sofa in the middle of a dim warehouse. As the Don of the Cosa Nostra, his reign emanated a palpable, suffocating pressure.

His large hands absentmindedly stroked the sleek fur of a small white cat. Yet, his eyes were locked onto the bleeding man strapped to a metal chair.

My brother, Leo.

Leo groaned, his head hanging low. Thick drops of blood dripped from his chin, each one landing with a distinct, sickening splat on the concrete floor.

Dante leaned forward.

"I have a hundred ways to break a man, Leo," he murmured dangerously low. "And I'm running out of them."

With a slight flick of Dante's wrist, a burly soldier stepped up and kicked the back of Leo's chair, sending him crashing to the floor.

I surged forward like a futile torrent of spirit, trying to throw myself over my brother's battered body.

I tried to shield him, but I was nothing more than a phantom.

My soul passed right through his trembling frame.

Because I was dead-now nothing but a ghost. Aside from bearing agonizing witness to it all, there was absolutely nothing I could do.

Leo coughed, spitting out a glob of saliva mixed with blood. He looked up at the Don. "Gianna... is gone," he mumbled, repeating the exact same phrase he had been chanting for hours.

Dante let out a cold, mocking scoff. "Lies," he spat, taking the truth as an unforgivable sign of disrespect.

"You refuse to take the easy way out? Fine." He raised a hand, signaling his men to resume the beating.

Heavy steel-toed boots slammed viciously into my brother's ribs with dull thuds. Leo's agonized screams echoed through the warehouse.

Every guttural cry felt like it was tearing my own nonexistent flesh wide open.

I screamed, begging them to stop, but this cold, heartless world had no room for the pleas of the dead.

Leo weakly lifted his head. "Gianna is gone," he repeated, his voice so hoarse it was barely a whisper.

The white cat on the sofa suddenly hissed. Dante grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and tossed it aside. He clenched his jaw, his eyes turning feral.

"Administer the electricity," he ordered.

His men clamped the frayed wires onto the metal chair, then flipped the switch.

Leo's body convulsed violently against his restraints.

He lost control of his bladder, a dark stain spreading rapidly across his pants as white foam bubbled from the corners of his mouth.

Dante stood up and walked right into my brother's line of sight. "Where the hell is she hiding?"

Dante continued to sneer, "Your sister is a two-faced traitor. Frankly, I couldn't care less where she ran off to."

He leaned in closer, making no effort to hide his cruel intentions.

"I'm only hunting her down because Francesca's heart is failing." He paused. "I need to carve open Gianna's chest and give her heart to someone who actually deserves it."

My soul stood completely alone in the vast void between worlds.

I remembered the day I first met him.

I remembered falling in love with this fierce, fiercely protective Mafia heir. I also remembered that brutal cartel ambush.

Blinded and confined to a hospital bed, he was completely stripped of his power and his future.

I defied my own family. I sought out an underground mob surgeon and willingly sacrificed my own corneas, just so Dante could see the light again.

I died from a severe infection in that filthy, illegal clinic.

On my deathbed, I begged my mother and brother to swear to a twisted version of omertà.

I forced them to lie.

I made them say I fled to Europe because I couldn't stomach the bloody Mafia lifestyle anymore.

I even begged my closest friend, Capo Matteo, to erase all my medical records.

I did all of this so the man I loved wouldn't have to carry the heavy sin of my death.

But my soul never left.

I was tethered to him, trapped as a silent, helpless spectator.

I watched his childhood companion, Francesca, step into the light. I watched her claim my bloody sacrifice as her own.

I watched helplessly as she used her failing heart to manipulate his misplaced rage, pointing it directly at my loved ones.

Dante squatted next to Leo. The sound of scraping metal echoed through the warehouse as he gripped a heavy pair of steel pliers.

"Word is, you're a painter," he said, staring deadpan at Leo. "If you lose your hands, will you still be so eager to protect Gianna?"

Gianna's POV

"No!" Leo screamed. "You can't do this!"

The moment the metal jaws clamped down on Leo's pinky finger, the sound of snapping like a dry twig echoed in the damp air.

Leo's agonized scream tore through the silence of the warehouse.

Dante didn't even blink. He squatted beside my brother, his polished dress shoes stepping right into the pool of blood. "Leo, tell me where she is, and this ends right now."

Leo curled up on the concrete floor, sweat and blood dripping from his forehead. He lifted his head, his lips trembling: "Gianna... is already dead."

Dante stood up abruptly. He loosened his dark silk tie, twirling the heavy steel pliers in his hand.

"Your sister is a traitor." He gritted his teeth, enunciating every word. "She isn't worth protecting, Leo."

Leo's breath caught in his throat.

Dante turned and jutted his chin toward his lead soldier: "Break every single one of his pinky fingers. One by one."

The soldier stepped forward, pinning Leo to the ground with a heavy boot on his left hand. The steel pliers clamped onto the pinky and twisted.

Leo's screams dissolved into choking sobs.

Dante looked down at him, a cold smirk playing on his lips: "Didn't you love painting, Leo? Let's see what kind of art you can create with these hands."

I lunged at the soldier's arm. But my fingers phased right through his rough sleeve.

No leverage. No sensation. I couldn't even make the faintest sound.

All I could do was weep and wail, entirely powerless.

The soldier snapped the second finger.

Leo's eyes rolled back; the excruciating pain pushed him to the brink of fainting. He lay trembling on the floor, barely conscious, but his lips were still moving: "Gianna... is already dead..."

Dante crouched down, grabbed him by the hair, and yanked his face up: "Playing tough? Fine."

He let go, letting Leo's head slam heavily against the concrete. Then he stood up and clapped his hands.

The sharp sound of applause echoed through the warehouse.

The metal doors of the warehouse slid open.

Several burly soldiers dragged my mother into the blood-stained room.

Rosa stumbled, her eyes wide with terror.

Leo's eyes widened. He struggled on the floor, his voice so hoarse it was barely audible: "Don't touch her-"

A soldier raised his hand and slapped Rosa hard across the face. The muffled, sickening sound hung in the air.

Rosa steadied herself, her chest heaving.

When she saw Leo's mangled hands, she shrieked: "Leo!"

Then she turned her head, fixing her bloodshot eyes on Dante, her voice raspy: "You're going to rot in hell, Dante. You will definitely go to hell."

Dante closed the distance between them in two strides.

He grabbed Rosa by her graying hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look up at him.

"Where is she?" he asked, his tone terrifyingly calm. "Give me her location, and I'll let your son walk out of those doors alive."

Rosa stared right back at him, refusing to yield even in the face of death.

She swallowed hard, her voice rough but crystal clear: "She is gone, Dante. Gianna is dead."

Dante's jaw tightened. A muscle ticked beneath his skin.

He released her hair and turned to Leo.

He waved a hand at his men: "Bring the metal pipe."

Rosa's body swayed. She watched the soldier pick up the heavy metal pipe, watched them walk toward Leo.

Her eyes rolled back, and she passed out. She collapsed onto the cold floor like a discarded ragdoll.

Dante looked down at her, his face filled with disgust. He kicked her, rolling her over, and muttered a low curse: "Useless trash."

He walked past Leo, his polished shoes stepping over the pooling blood. He casually kicked my brother's battered body, treating him like a stray dog on the street.

"I'll make you pay, Gianna," he said to the empty warehouse, his voice dark. "The price for playing me."

Just then, a soldier rushed into the room.

Holding a ringing cell phone, he stopped in front of Dante, panting heavily: "Boss, a call from Miss Francesca."

Dante's expression shifted instantly.

In that split second, all the ferocity vanished from his face. He took the phone, his voice dropping, almost gentle: "Frankie?"

Gianna's POV

I stood in the shadows of the warehouse, watching him.

My mind involuntarily drifted back to the past-to the arranged marriage between Dante and Francesca when they were kids.

I remembered how Francesca's family broke off the engagement the moment Dante's family lost their power.

She abandoned him.

She humiliated him throughout high school, twisting him into a withdrawn, isolated youth.

But I was the one who stayed.

I helped him forge alliances. I helped him build his legitimate fronts. I stayed by his side until he clawed his way back to power.

And now, I was forced to watch him believe her lies and punish my family.

"Listen to the doctors and get some rest," Dante said softly into the phone, his tone so tender it didn't match the man who had just snapped my brother's fingers. "I'll come see you soon."

He hung up the phone and turned around. When he spoke again, his voice was back to ice.

"Throw Leo in the holding cell," he ordered.

"Drag her to the solitary confinement room in the back." He jerked his chin toward my unconscious mother, then strode toward the warehouse exit.

I floated out after him.

On his way, he stopped at a high-end boutique for a brief moment.

He came out carrying a nutritious meal and a bouquet of fresh flowers.

Outside the door of the hospital's VIP suite, I stopped in the hallway.

Through the half-open door, I saw him hesitate at the threshold. He cleared his throat, lowered his voice, then pushed the door open with a smile on his face.

"Frankie?"

Francesca sat up in her hospital bed.

She turned her head slightly, staring blankly at the wall-playing the blind victim flawlessly.

"Is that you?" she asked.

Dante walked over, placed the flowers on the nightstand, and affectionately ruffled her hair: "You're so clever, knowing it was me just from my voice."

Francesca pouted: "It took you way too long to come see me."

"But I'm here now, aren't I?" Dante coaxed her gently, placing the flowers into her hands. "You are the most important person in my life, Frankie."

Francesca brought the flowers up to her nose and sniffed.

Her brow immediately furrowed.

"Are these gardenias?" she asked, a hint of displeasure in her voice. "You know my favorites are bluebells."

Dante's hand froze.

He was holding a plastic spoon, stirring her warm porridge. The spoon hung in mid-air; it took him a few seconds before he resumed stirring.

Gardenias.

My favorite flowers. Once upon a time.

A flicker of something flashed through Francesca's supposedly blind eyes. It was quick, well-hidden, but I caught it.

It was resentment.

She instantly shifted her expression, her voice trembling: "Are you... are you still thinking about Gianna?"

Dante put the spoon down. He took her hand, his tone hardening: "I wouldn't waste a single second on a liar who left me to rot in the dark. The florist just made a mistake."

He paused, leaning in closer to her: "I'm only hunting her down to get her heart. The day you're fully healed, we're getting married."

Francesca stared in the direction of his face. She pouted: "Then prove it to me."

"How?"

"Kiss me."

Dante leaned down.

He pressed his lips against hers, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

I turned away.

I covered my ears with my hands, but the intimate sounds of them still slipped through. The sound made me sick to my stomach.

I floated out of the hospital room and stood in the desolate hallway.

Betrayal ate away at me from the inside like venom, delivering a thousand tiny bites.

My sacrifice, my corneas, my family-she had stolen it all.