She Died on His Wedding
576 Views · Ongoing · Agatha Christie
Seven years ago, I crawled on my knees to save Alex Benedetti's ass, and got marked as the bitch who betrayed him.
Seven years later, he came back as New York's deadliest mob boss. Lucy Ferraro, some spoiled mafia princess, was warming his bed while I was on my hands and knees scrubbing his floors.
He let his fiancée treat me like garbage. When I started coughing up blood, the son of a bitch laughed and said I had it coming.
He didn't know the brain cancer was eating me alive.
The day I died, Alex was putting a ring on another woman's finger. He never found out that the girl who took bullets for him—the one he destroyed—was already rotting six feet under while he was saying "I do."
Seven years later, he came back as New York's deadliest mob boss. Lucy Ferraro, some spoiled mafia princess, was warming his bed while I was on my hands and knees scrubbing his floors.
He let his fiancée treat me like garbage. When I started coughing up blood, the son of a bitch laughed and said I had it coming.
He didn't know the brain cancer was eating me alive.
The day I died, Alex was putting a ring on another woman's finger. He never found out that the girl who took bullets for him—the one he destroyed—was already rotting six feet under while he was saying "I do."














































