Fake Death, Real Exorcist, Don Never Forgot Chapter 08

I looked at her quietly.

“But your love seems expensive enough.”

“Expensive enough to cost you the Voss family. Renaldi. And yourself.”

The smile on her face finally cracked.

The old Voss cases were reopened along with the new evidence.

The docks, casinos, hotels, shell companies—every piece of their empire was audited and torn apart by Visconti and federal investigators at the same time.

Several key members of the Voss family tried to flee overnight, but none of them made it out of New York.

Lysandra was sent to Visconti’s most secret island safehouse.

There were no cameras there, no reporters, no parties, and none of the applause she loved most.

Donovano did give me an answer.

But after giving me that answer, he became even less willing to let me go.

He came to the Hudson estate every day.

He didn’t force me back to the main house. He didn’t force me to become Donna again. He didn’t bring up the past.

He only watched Cassian practice his letters, played soccer with him on the lawn, and even learned how to make him a little wooden sword by hand.

It didn’t take long for Cassian to start calling him Dad.

Every time I heard it, my head hurt.

That night, I finally couldn’t hold back anymore.

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

Donovano sat under the light, still holding the practice sheets Cassian had ruined that afternoon.

At my words, he lifted his eyes to me.

“I want to make it up to you.”

I laughed.

“And what does Don Visconti plan to use for that?”

He fell silent.

After a long time, he said quietly, “The Donna’s position. Half of Visconti’s power. The rest of my life. Is that enough?”

Five years ago, those words might have destroyed me.

I might have fallen for them completely.

But not now.

Now, I only felt tired.

“Donovano, I don’t want any of that.”

“I just want peace.”

The last bit of light in his eyes slowly went out.

“Then if I let you leave New York, will you ever come back in this lifetime?”

I looked out the window and said softly, “No.”

His hand clenched around Cassian’s practice sheet.

The paper crumpled at the edges.

After a long while, he actually smiled.

“Okay.”

The next day, a formal announcement spread through the Visconti family.

Serafina Visconti had not died five years ago. She had gone into premature labor after being caught in the gunfight and had been lost outside the family’s protection.

The old case from five years ago had been fully investigated.

Serafina would have every title and asset owed to the Donna restored, but she was not required to return to the Visconti main house and would no longer be bound by the family marriage.

Cassian Miller would be renamed Cassian Visconti and entered into the Visconti line of succession, with all assets under his name protected by an independent trust.

In addition, Donovano Visconti, due to his failures years ago, would voluntarily leave the main estate and temporarily reside at a Long Island recovery villa.

Visconti family affairs would be handled jointly by Consigliere Grey, several capos, and the family council until the heir was ready.

New York’s entire underworld erupted.

I held the announcement in my hands and stared at it, stunned.

Grey stood beside me with a bitter smile.

“The Don called every capo last night and forced this through.”

My throat tightened.

“Why would he do that?”

Grey said quietly, “He said you don’t want the Donna’s seat, and you don’t want him. So he’ll move the Don’s seat out of your way too.”

My heart shook hard.

I turned and went to find him.

The Long Island recovery villa smelled heavily of medicine.

When I walked in, Donovano was gripping the edge of the bed as he coughed.

Dark red stained the handkerchief in his hand.

All these years, he had survived on that last obsession in his heart.

Now that the obsession had loosened, his body had collapsed with it.

When he saw me, he still had the strength to smile.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

I walked to his bedside and, for the first time, truly looked at what he had become.

Suddenly, I thought of those old letters.

I thought of him carrying that burned body out of the fire, step by step.

I thought of the past five years, how I had hated him and feared him, yet never once truly asked him one thing.

If you really thought I was dead, how did you survive it?

I asked quietly, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

He looked at me.

“Tell you what?”

“That you never touched Lysandra.”

“That you were investigating the Voss family.”

“That you went to the ruins and looked for me.”

His lashes trembled slightly.

“Would you have given me the chance?”

I fell silent.

Back then, all I had wanted was to run.

And he had been too proud to lower his head and explain.

One wrong step had led to another.

He reached out and, just like before, carefully touched the edge of my sleeve.

“Serafina.”

“I know I don’t deserve to ask for your forgiveness.”

“But Cassian is still young.”

“If you stay in New York, he’ll have his mother and his father.”

I looked at his hand and suddenly felt that after all this pulling and tearing, no one had really won.

I gently covered his hand with mine.

His whole body went rigid.

“I can stay.”

“But not for you.”

“For Cassian. And for myself.”

Donovano’s eyes turned red at once, his voice rough.

“Okay.”

After that, Donovano really did stay on Long Island to recover. He stopped interfering in the family’s daily affairs.

I lived in a newly bought townhouse in southern Manhattan and raised Cassian my own way.

If Donovano became seriously ill, I went to see him once.

When he got better, he came to read with Cassian, help him practice writing, and teach him Italian.

He never mentioned remarriage again.

He never mentioned making me Donna again.

He only made up the time he owed us, little by little.

Years passed.

Cassian grew up smart, calm, and beloved by the family.

When he was sixteen, Donovano officially named him the sole heir of Visconti.

When Cassian finally came of age and could hold every capo down on his own, Donovano formally handed over the Don’s ring.

That day, he held my hand and walked down the tall steps of the Visconti main house with me.

Spring came late to New York.

But that day, the sunlight was beautiful.

Donovano suddenly smiled and asked me, “This time, can you stay?”

I looked at the wide stretch of fresh green beyond the estate and smiled too.

“That depends on how you behave.”

This time, he never lost me again.