The Don's Orphan Wife Is A Mafia Empire Princess (Elara) novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Giovanni lay in the ICU for an entire week, haunted by relentless dreams.

He relived every memory: the first time he met Elara, her wedding vows, the desperate fear in her eyes as she lay on the operating table.

When he finally woke, the room was bare.

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No flowers, no fruit, no familiar comforting presence-only the bodyguard who had delivered him left behind a bill before vanishing.

Once discharged, Giovanni didn’t dare approach Elara again.

Like a rat hiding in the shadows, he rented a dilapidated apartment directly across from Lucien’s estate.

His only daily amusement was peering at her life through a telescope.

He watched her plant tulips in the sunlight, her face radiant, her laughter effortless-a joy she had never shown in the three years she spent with him.

Lucien stood beside her, handing her the shovel, brushing sweat from her brow.

That simple, happy scene tore at Giovanni’s heart, a stark reminder of how completely he had lost everything.

He spent his last fortune to acquire a loose diamond, which he cut and set himself into a necklace.

Inside, he concealed a micro-tracker, thinking it was the only way he could protect her.

Just as he was planning the moment to send her the gift, a horrifying figure appeared in the telescope’s lens. In the edge of the estate, a beggar crouched in the bushes.

Her clothes were tattered, her face disfigured with grotesque scars, her limbs bent in unnatural ways-a crawling

monster.

Yet he recognized her immediately.

Bianca. She had not died.

She had clawed her way out of the pile of corpses, driven by a bellyful of venomous hatred.

In one hand, she gripped a makeshift Molotov cocktail; in the other, a rusty, homemade pistol.

Her cloudy, unhinged eyes were locked on Elara, filled with murderous intent.

Giovanni’s chest tightened violently.

No!

He hurled the telescope aside and sprinted downstairs like a man possessed.

At the estate gates, Elara and Lucien were about to enter the car.

From the bushes, Bi ca leapt like a beast, letting out a terrifying roar.

“Die! All of you die e shrieked.

The dark muzzle of her gun aimed directly at Elara’s chest.

“Watch out!” Giovanni shouted, his instincts faster than his thoughts.

He lunged forward, throwing himself over Elara and Lucien at the instant the gun fired.

Bang! The sound tore through the air.

Pain exploded along his back, a searing, burning agony, and warm blood gushed forth, staining Elara’s pristine white dress red.

“Giovanni!” Elara’s terrified scream tore through him.

Gunfire erupted around them. Lucien’s bodyguards responded immediately, turning Bianca into a lifeless sieve.

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The madwoman collapsed, bleeding, dead for good.

Giovanni lay atop Elara, strength draining fast.

He tried to lift a hand to touch her face, but at the sight of his own bloodied palm, he recoiled.

“Cough… cough…”

He hacked up more blood, glancing at the tear-streaked Elara, struggling to force a smile.

“This time… it’s my turn to save you…” he rasped.

“You don’t owe me anymore… Elara… now, we are even…”

Darkness swallowed him.

When he awoke, half a month had passed.

Luck had spared him; the bullet had missed his heart by mere centimeters.

The ward door opened, and Elara stepped inside.

She wore a pale blue gown and looked healthy, composed, untouchable.

Giovanni struggled to sit, but she pressed a hand on his chest.

“Don’t move,” she said calmly, her tone stripped of past hatred and love alike.

“Elara…”

His eyes burned, desperate.

“You came to see me.”

Elara stood quietly beside the bed, watching him.

“That shot canceled out all grudges,” she said softly.

“I don’t hate you anymore. Hating someone is too exhausting, and you’re no longer worth the effort.”

Giovanni’s heart sank, piece by piece.

He reached out a trembling hand.

“Then we…”

“We are finished. Completely finished,” she cut him off, her voice firm, resolute, almost liberating.

“Heal well. Take care.”

With that, she turned and walked to the door.

Lucien waited, smiling. She took his arm naturally, and together they left, stepping out of Giovanni’s life forever. Sunlight poured through the window onto the empty hospital bed.

Giovanni watched their retreating figures, a single tear tracing a line down his cheek onto the pristine white sheets.

This was the end.

He would spend the remainder of his life in endless regret, a silent witness to the lover he had destroyed with his own hands.

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