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melis-writes · 2 years

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Moth to Flame [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Halloween AU Oneshot – Bloodthirst.

Read on AO3 / Tumblr / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

“How did a bat get in here?” / "I told you I would die for you and the children without a second’s hesitation, didn’t I?"

Spending the afternoon yachting out on Lake Tahoe with your family should have gone as blissful as it always has, only to result in the worst nightmare of your life. In the midst of a freak accident with your lives in danger, you and Michael fight to ensure the safety of your children but cannot do the same for one another. The ultimate sacrifice made for family has been prompted by a single bat who has marked Michael as its next host, raising your husband from the dead as a bloodthirsty monster far beyond the reach of humanity.

[WARNINGS]: Heavy angst / Mentions & themes of smut / Alcohol use / Major traumatic accident / Graphic themes & depictions of injury and blood / Themes & depictions of death / Major character death / Vampirism / Graphic mention of trauma & grief / Blood sucking.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: Happy Halloween!! 👻🎃 What else says "horror" and "terror" like the most agonizingly angsty oneshot of Moth to Flame of all time? 😏 Playing on the themes of "what if Michael Corleone was a vampire?" 🩸 this Halloween AU takes a heartwrenching twist. I'm not joking when I say bring your tissues, this AU oneshot is designed to cause heartache. 👀

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

“Boooooat! Boat, boat!” James points at the luxury yacht by the docks excitedly, thrilled just by the sight of it. “Boat, mama!”

“Yes, that’s right!” You beam, holding little James in your arms and gesturing back to the yacht. “It’s a very big boat, isn’t it? That’s called a yacht.

“Ya? Ya, ya. Boooooat. Yaaaaa…” Two years old and beginning to learn most of his words, James’ pronunciation of yacht makes you giggle.

“Funny word, right? Yacht!” Niccolo’s voice rings out as he steps out of the boathouse behind the two of you with Verona next to him, both with their lifejackets properly worn and strapped onto them.

“Ooh, there you two are at last.” You turn back to face your children, noticing their life jackets on. “All ready to go?”

“Ready, ready!” Verona nods happily.

“Perfect.” You move over, patting both of their lifejackets to ensure nothing’s out of place. “Better safe than anything else. Remember what daddy and I said about safety on the yacht, right guys?”

“Yes, mama.” Both twins say back at the same time.

“Always keep your lifejacket on right up until we’re done with our trip and off the docks, okay?” You remind them gently. “Best to be completely away from the water when we do so, just in case. We don’t want to have any accidents and we want to keep each other safe.”

“Jaaaaaa!” James shrieks, making a squeezing gesture with his hand toward the twins’ life jackets.

“I think he wants to come too!” Verona lets her little brother squish her life jacket with his tiny, chubby hands.

“When can Vincent and James join us, mama?” Niccolo asks, holding his baby brother’s hand. “They can have some fun too!”

“Oh, without a doubt, but they’re just a little too young right now.” You tell them, ruffling James’ soft hair. “When both of them turn five years old which was the same for the two of you, then they can join us. No moving boats for the little guys for now.”

“Yeah, he’s just a little baby!” Verona exclaims, kissing her baby brother’s forehead. “A little baby.”

Niccolo grins playfully, looking back over at the yacht by the docks. “Then me and Verona will help them with their lifejackets and how to spot the best fish in the water.”

“That sounds like a plan,” you laugh softly. “But for now…” You give James a kiss on both of his chubby cheeks. “It’s time for this little one to take his afternoon nap before he gets cranky.”

“Maaaaaa…” James coos, resting his head over your shoulder.

“Oh, perfect timing.” You giggle, rubbing James’ back. “He’s a tired little guy. Alright,” you glance back at the twins, pointing to the yacht. “You two can go to the docks and see Mr. Neri and Tom, okay? They’ll help you both get on and your daddy’s already on board. I’m just gonna head inside and get James ready for his nap with Esther, then double-check on Vincent.”

“Okay, mama!” The twins beam.

“We’ll go see daddy!” Verona decides, nodding at Niccolo before the two begin to rush off excitedly toward the docks.

“Be safe!” You call back out, noting the distance of the docks to how fast the twins are running off. “And remember, no running near the docks!”

“Yes, mama!” You notice the twins beginning to slow down as they approach the docks, returning to a walking pace as you begin to walk off toward the central family estate.

The last thing you notice by the docks before you turn your attention back to the family estate is Michael’s men and security preparing the yacht to sail, marking another monthly trip of going boating with the children around the lake today.

Every now and then, Tom and Sonny join you, Michael, and the children as well to do some fishing and teach the twins some new tricks as you all enjoy the waters and weather of Lake Tahoe and have lunch as a family on deck.

The monthly yacht trips have always been a perfect way to spend time together as a family, not to mention just how much the twins have been anticipating it since they were five years old—now nine, with their little brother Vincent three years old and James having just turned two years old.

On the deck of the yacht, Michael’s dressed in a wine-red dress shirt and grey dress trousers—no tie or suit jacket, hair very lightly gelled and combed back; rather casual and relaxed for this afternoon’s boating trip on his day off.

Michael walks into the maintenance room with Sonny, keeping both hands in the pockets of his trousers as he oversees the maintenance of the yacht being prepped for the day; fuel being checked and machinery working before the yacht can depart from the docks.

“You won’t believe this, Mike,” Sonny grumbles out of annoyance, leading his brother into the maintenance room. “I’m telling you, why the hell do we even hire these guys? I swear I’m going to get Tom to look into this tonight, I’m fucking tired. I want new guys—experts, professionals—whatever the fuck you call it on this damn yacht. And here I thought something actually happened, but instead, they call me in like, ‘oh, there’s a bat in the maintenance room!’. These assholes aren’t afraid to shoot another man between the eyes but shit themselves over a bat. A fucking bat!”

“A bat?” Michael furrows his brows, stepping inside the maintenance room to see two of the yacht’s workers awkwardly standing by the wall, as far away as they can be from the corner of the room.

“How did a bat get in here?” Michael follows where Sonny points up to the corner of the room, seeing a little bat huddled in the corner and hanging upside down a stack of loose rope.

“The fuck would I know?” Sonny sighs, crossing his arms. “They say it’s been here for a few days and won’t get out. They threw stuff at it or whatever even tried to shoo it away with a broom but nothing. A bat. A fucking bat.” Sonny turns to scowl at the two workers.

“Right.” Michael murmurs, “and we’re delayed because of this?”

It’s Michael’s comment alone that his employees look utterly embarrassed, not any of Sonny’s dirty looks.

“You might want to let Tom know, then.” Michael hints at getting new hires to Sonny, preferably ones not afraid of getting a bat out of the maintenance room for the past three days. “I don’t care how the creature ended up in here but it’s clearly due to neglect and improper care. This door should be sealed shut at all times with only authorized personnel inside. Why was it left open for any reason, and enough for an animal to come in?”

“There’s no damage done, sir.” One of the maintenance workers says, absolutely wrong. “The animal’s just been very defensive and refusing to move at all.”

“It’s territorial.” Michael clarifies, “assuming this is its new home and it may as well be because of how much time he’s spent in here.” Instant annoyance befalls Michael’s expression.

While there’s no apparent issue causing wires to rip, or anything dented or out of the place, the bat has most definitely tampered with some pipes and wires for the past few days—gnawing and scratching on them behind the machinery that one would have to push aside to see.

Seemingly harmless, the bat has actually done enough damage to the yacht’s machinery that is unbeknownst to everyone else.

“Please,” Michael rolls his eyes and takes a step forward towards the bat.

The bat immediately makes eye contact with Michael, hissing loudly out of defense but Michael is neither phased nor does he care.

“SHOO!” Michael swats his hand toward the bat, causing it to fly around and the maintenance worker employees to stumble back into each other out of fear as the bat begins to fly around.

“For fuck’s sake.” Sonny ducks his head to avoid the bat.

Michael remains still, continuing to wave off the bat that flies behind his head and without Michael noticing or feeling a thing, nips the back of his head before flying out of the maintenance room.

“Afraid of a bat,” Michael mutters under his breath as he notices the bat fly off the yacht entirely, now facing his employees. “I expect everything to be perfect and ready to go now, understood? My family is about to board and we will be sailing out soon.”

“No more bullshit and fuckin’ around.” Sonny narrows his eyes at the workers.

“Uh, yes, sir.” The men agree sheepishly, appearing utterly embarrassed.

“Good.” Michael brushes off his hands, stepping out of the maintenance room with Sonny following behind as he sees the twins approaching the docks now.

“Daddy!” Verona and Niccolo chime together as Tom and Al Neri help them board the yacht.

“Hello you two,” Michael gives his children a small smile, rubbing both of their shoulders as they rush up to their father to hug him. “Both of you look ready, lifejackets on. Good. We all want to keep each other safe.”

“Will you and mama wear one too?” Niccolo asks.

“Of course, we will,” Michael nods back, “let’s wait for your mother to get here with us so we can get ready and sail out.”

“Mama is putting James to sleep.” Verona happily peeks over to the family estate in the distance. “And mama says when Vincent and James turn five, they can join us!”

“She’s right.” Michael agrees, “because for now, they’re too little to be on the yacht…” Michael’s words trail off as he spots you stepping out of the family estate, beginning to make your way toward the docks. “No running on the yacht, please, alright?”

“Okay, daddy.” The twins agree, exchanging excited glances with one another before heading inside the yacht’s living room to play.

Michael slips his hands back into his pockets, taking a few steps towards the docks to approach you arriving at the yacht.

As Tom has already boarded, Al Neri is the only one left by the docks who takes a polite step back as Michael extends his hand down the steps to you to help you up.

“Hi, baby.” You blush, taking Michael’s hand and coming up.

“Hi, love.” Michael carefully pulls you onto the yacht before giving the back of your hand a kiss. “How are my boys?”

“Both fast asleep in the best possible afternoon naps they can have.” You chuckle. “Do I even need to ask how the twins are?”

You and Michael can both hear faint giggles coming inside the yacht.

“No, I don’t think so.” You notice a faint, amused smile on Michael’s lips. “They’re excited as always.”

“Perfect.” You let out a sigh of relief, smiling as you look around the yacht’s deck. “We’ll take a tour around the lake and then have lunch in an hour or two?”

“Mhmm, just as we planned.” Michael agrees, holding your hand. “Unlike last month, the weather’s behaving today. No need to have our meal inside like the last time.”

“I agree.” You blush, letting your eyes greedily dart up and down Michael’s outfit for today.

“Alright,” Michael turns towards the back of the yacht, making eye contact with one of his men before nodding. “We’re ready to get moving.” Michael faces you again, squeezing your hand. “Come inside with me, baby. We’re about to set sail.”

Michael and you enter the spacious, living area of the yacht where Sonny’s already seated on one of the couches, grinning at the twins playing with miniature figures of the yacht.

Niccolo and Verona run in circles around each other, pretending to set sail with their figures and dolls. “Wheeee, wheee!”

“Last call to board The Banana!” Niccolo exclaims, holding up his yacht figure.

“The Banana?” Michael raises a brow, taking a seat next to you on the velvet loveseat. “The boat’s name is The Banana?”

“Yep, mine is!” Niccolo giggles, “we only offer round trips to Banana Island.”

“Banana Island,” you laugh, shaking your head. “How nice. I should visit sometime.”

“You could, mama!” Niccolo proudly holds up his yacht figure. “It’s for very special guests.”

“Mine too!” Verona claims, picking up her little boat figure. “Except mine goes to Cannoli Island, so I call this one the Cannoli Boat.”

“There you go, we have a lot of options.” Michael jokes.

“You bet.” Sonny chuckles, relaxing against the couch. “Finally taking off, eh?”

“Mhmm.” Michael’s aware Sonny’s hinting at the bat-in-the-maintenance-room fiasco earlier, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you all feel the yacht begin to move.

You exhale deeply, feeling completely calm and relaxed as you snuggle up to Michael’s arm—smiling and watching your children play with their toys.

“Okay, lovebirds.” Sonny claps his hand, sitting up. “I don’t know about the two of you all cuddled up there but I’m fixing myself a drink. Anyone in?”

“Not going to wait until we’re fully off?” Michael asks as Sonny rises from his seat, walking towards the minibar at the end of the room.

“I don’t get seasick for starters.” Sonny points out. “And second, I need a drink.”

“Hmm, I don’t think I get seasick either.” You peek up at Michael.

“If you do, you’re sure it’s not something else?” Michael teases, placing a hand over your stomach.

You flush red, giggling and avoiding Michael’s eyes out of embarrassment. “Maybe. It’s a little too soon, don’t you think?”

You know all too well Michael would love yet another child even though you had James about two years ago now, being your fourth but nobody said anything against a fifth after all.

“Up to you, darling.” Michael pecks a sweet kiss over your lips.

“Just in case anyone changes their mind,” Sonny returns, setting a bottle of chilled white wine on the table with three wine glasses.

“Ooh, white wine for today, huh?” You know Sonny’s choice of alcohol has always been beyond any kind of wine.

“Let’s just say I also acquired different tastes besides rum and whiskey,” Sonny smirks, moving his wine glass over to him on the coffee table and pouring himself half a glass. “Now I’m just wondering if this damn thing will move.”

“What do you mean?” Your curiosity is raised as you glance back and forth at Michael and Sonny.

“The yacht needs new administration.” Michael clarifies, placing his hand over your thigh. “Seems the current one isn’t competent enough.”

“Yeah,” Sonny rolls his eyes, taking a gulp of his wine. “Can you believe they had a goddamn bat camping out in the maintenance room? Grown men were shitting their pants over it.”

“A bat?” You raise your brows, giggling. “Must have been a hell of a bat if it caused that much trouble.”

“I was going to say, but…” Sonny sets his wine glass down, “when I walked in and saw this tiny little bat, I just got more pissed off. From the way the guys were talkin’, I thought I’d see this freakish thing covered in blood or whatever. Then fine, I get it, but this bat was in there for three days.”

“Hmm.” You purse your lips, peeking up at Michael. “Whatever you think is best, baby. I’m with you.”

“I look further into it after this trip.” Michael nods, “although yes, I can feel the yacht is moving much slower than usual.”

“God.” Sonny groans, taking another swig of his wine. “You know what… No.” He’s quick to set his glass back down again, almost spilling some wine. “No, this is annoying me. I’m going to go check it out because now we’re on the goddamn water.”

“Might as well.” Michael shrugs, watching his older brother practically storm out to the deck.

“Is everything okay, baby?” You place your hand over top of Michael’s on your thigh.

“Everything’s fine, baby.” Michael kisses your cheek. “Just fine. It’s just that this administration change is a must.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the best in Nevada to fill any vacant positions, hmm?” You giggle, kissing Michael’s shoulder before resting your head on it.

“That I can,” Michael agrees, “and they’ll have to be only the best.” He moves his hand to brush back a curtain of your hair behind your ear.

Your cheeks flush a shade of scarlet as you notice Michael’s eyes still over yours, gazing lovingly at you.

You feel the same rush of butterflies racing in the pit of your stomach as you always have for the past nine years married to this man—nothing’s ever changed, keeping the honeymoon phase in your marriage eternal.

Even sharing little moments of love and affection like this, feels blissful and euphoric to you in more ways than one—reveling in this sense of trust and love.

“You, me, the twins…” You sigh softly, unable to wipe the smile off your face. “Trip out on the lake… It’s perfect, you know? It’s my favorite pastime.”

“Anything for you, darling.” Michael tilts your chin up gently, kissing your lips but keeping it appropriate due to the children being nearby.

The twins look over before giggling quietly amongst one another, quite aware of just how much their parents love one another.

“And I have you all to myself today, hmm? Not many can say that, like your business partners.” You tease. “Because if I remember correctly, you had a business meeting in place today, right?”

“Does it matter?” Michael asks back.

“Doesn’t it?” You blink, raising your brows.

“Not at all. I make time for my wife and children as much as I need and as much as I want.” Michael takes both of your hands in his, kissing each.

“And I love you for that,” you tell him back.

“And once we get back…” Michael refers to going back home, “we’ll have to finish what we started.”

“Right.” You bite down on your lip, holding back your eagerness as you remember how the two of you almost ended up late for breakfast while making love first thing n the morning for almost half an hour. “Finish or continue?”

“We’ll see.” Michael chuckles, a small silence following after his words—simply lost while gazing into each other’s eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” You feel your heart skip a beat in your chest.

Just as Michael leans over to give you another kiss, Sonny practically barges back inside, calling out for Michael. “Hey, Mike!”

Michael rolls his eyes, appearing instantly annoyed as he pulls away from you and looks back. “Yes?”

Instead of a look of amusement or excitement on Sonny’s face, it’s bewilderment and shock. “You’re gonna wanna see. This isn’t good.”

A look of concern and alarm crosses your expression, but Michael’s quick to shake his head back at you for reassurance. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll go see what’s going on, alright?”

“Okay.” You reply back, a little nervous but Michael’s coolness reassures you nonetheless.

“What is it this time?” Michael whispers to Sonny before both of them exit the yacht.

You can’t hear Sonny’s reply as he doesn’t speak to Michael until both are out of your sight, but you do hear a faint “the yacht is absolutely fucked” just a few seconds before the door closes which lights anxiety inside you.

You glance back over at the twins nervously, attempting to distract yourself by watching them play together—feeling the warmth of Michael fading off your hands already.

“What the hell is this?” Michael hisses, unable to push down his irritancy any longer as he walks into the maintenance room.

Both of his yacht employees frantically rush around, trying to stop sparking wires and puffs of dark smoke coming from the yacht’s machinery.

“It’s the fucking bat, huh?” Sonny scowls, gesturing around at the mechanical mess. “Something tore all of this up and nothing’s responding. We need to manually turn the yacht back. We’re far enough.”

“Great.” Michael’s eyes quickly dart over the malfunctioning machinery, proving imminent danger. “Only there’s no time for that now.”

Michael’s eyes find only one lifejacket by the door, seeing another one torn to shreds by an animal beside it.

Immediately with intentions of giving you and only you the remaining, intact lifejacket, Michael grabs it. “We need to evacuate immediately. Call SOS back to the boathouse and Sonny, and get the life rafts out with Tom. We’re getting off the yacht.”

Before Michael nor Sonny can react, they both hear a loud clunk of machinery coming from the top of the yacht—enough to startle both you and the twins inside.

“Mama, what’s going on?” Niccolo looks up at the ceiling in worry as he and Verona drop their toys.

“Is the boat okay?” Verona furrows her brows in confusion.

“I’m not sure, sweetheart.” You get off the loveseat, moving closer to the twins to comfort them. “Daddy’s checking on it right now with Uncle Sonny.”

Without wasting a moment further of time, Sonny sprints off from the maintenance room to do as Michael said—finding Tom on the other end of the yacht first.

Michael steps out after Sonny only to see more electrical wires beginning to burst from the sides and top of the maintenance room—feeling the yacht heat up in danger of a potential electrical fire.

Now completely alert for danger but calm instead of panicked, Michael runs back into the yacht carrying the life jacket in his hands as both you and the twins huddled in your arms stare up at him with terrified anticipation.

“Michael?” You feel your voice shake from fear, “what’s going on out there?”

“There’s an—” Michael lunges away from the door, bracing himself as a small explosion can be heard not far from the maintenance room, causing a fire to start. “Electrical fire. Something’s not right in the maintenance room and we’re getting out of here immediately.”

Michael doesn’t bother to just hand you the lifejacket, he puts it over you securely and straps it on quickly, taking both of the twins’ hands to lead them out. “Come on, we’re going right now. We’re getting off the yacht.”

“We have to go?” Niccolo asks, panicked.

“Yes, yes, honey, we do.” You attempt to keep your voice steady, smoothening out your life jacket and following Michael and the children out to the deck. “Don’t worry, we’re all going to get off safe and sound right away—Michael? Your lifejacket?” Your eyes widen as you just notice now Michael isn’t wearing one.

“Forget about it,” Michael shakes his head, “there was only one. Come on—quickly! There’s no time to waste.”

“Mike! Victoria!” You both hear Tom call out from the side of the yacht. “Over here! We’ve got the life rafts out and we’re evacuating now!”

“Go, go, go,” Michael coaxes and gently nudges the twins over to the sound of Tom’s voice. “Listen to both of your uncles, do you understand? They’re going to keep you safe and help you off—stay near them at all costs.”

“Over here, you two! Come on now!” Sonny reaches and hops back up onto the yacht, extending his hands out to the twins as he’ll lower them down onto the life raft Tom is on.

“What about you and mama?” Verona’s eyes tear up.

“We’ll be fine, honey! We’re going on the next life raft, okay?” You smile weakly at your daughter, watching Sonny help Niccolo get down on the life raft as Verona’s next. “Be good and just please listen to your uncles! They know best.”

Your eyes sting with tears as you watch both of the twins get safely lowered onto the life raft with Tom and Sonny as the yacht begins to shake and the deck grows more unstable by the minute.

Michael adjusts your lifejacket to ensure it’s on you properly; his eyes widen to see even more wires and pipes beginning to burst loose from the top of the yacht—just above the living room, you were all in which signals another explosion to come.

The twins’ life raft moving steadily away from the yacht is the last thing you see before you hear Michael yell out, “VICTORIA!”

Snatching you in his arms, Michael uses every ounce of strength in his body to forcefully pull you to his side just before a massive chunk of shrapnel coming off the yacht bursts in the direction you were just standing in.

“M-Michael!” You cry out, clinging onto your husband for life, “what’s going on!? Oh my God!”

“Another raft is coming, baby.” Michael puts both of his hands on your shoulders firmly, “and you will get on it, do you understand me?!”

“I—” Your eyes widen in horror to see water beginning to flood the deck of the yacht now, seeping into every room and door around instantly.

The yacht’s in the middle of Lake Tahoe but still at a distance where you and Michael can see the compound—unfortunately much too far to swim back to without the risk of drowning or fatigue in the water.

“Victoria,” Michael grabs your attention again, looking into your eyes. “Do as I say, baby. We’re getting off this yacht now and we need to act fast.”

“Okay, okay!” You nod at Michael frantically, “but you’re coming with—”

“I’m the last one getting off this thing—you and the twins are going first!” Michael demands.

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” You shriek back, bursting into tears. “The yacht’s coming apart as we speak—”

You scream, seeing the railing off the top of the yacht begins to melt from the flames of the electrical fire and move downward—one ton of hot melted metal threatening to hit both of you.

There’s not nearly enough space to safely hold you back from the yacht bursting and coming apart from all sides due to the spreading of fire and electrical malfunctions from one machine to the next.

Michael pushes you to the other side of the yacht to separate himself from you, preventing the hot metal pieces of the railing from hitting both of you.

As soon as the scorching piece of metal hits the deck, it splits the wood into two as water begins to sprout up from the inside out.

Separated from Michael and on opposite sides of the yacht from the destruction in the middle, fire alarms ring within the yacht, and sprinklers go off, coupled with steam and black smoke now riddling the air from all sides.

You cough, barely regaining your balance and holding onto the only intact side railing of the yacht left as cold water begins to rush over you from the lake violently rocking the unstable yacht.

“VICTORIA! Hold on!” Michael jumps forward over the pile of melted metal, grabbing your hand just as you’re about to slip and possibly be thrown back to the other end of the sinking yacht.

You cough, sputtering out the cold water you got a face full of as you hold onto Michael for dear life—seeing your husband soaked from head to toe as well.

“Don’t let g-go,” you whimper, shuddering and barely able to hold onto Michael’s hand yourself.

“I’m not, baby.” Michael pants, “I’m never letting go.”

Michael’s eyes trail up to see the last chunk of the top of the yacht coming apart, even bigger than the last and threatening to tip down.

“Listen to me, baby,” Michael’s voice is filled with urgency, “another life raft is coming from the side there with Tom and Sonny. Get on it as soon as possible and get off this damned yacht no matter what. Get back to the compound with the twins and—”

“No, you have to come with me!” You sob, shaking your head. “Come with me on the raft—”

“There’s no more left, baby.” Michael shakes his head, “don’t worry about me, I’m not staying on here a moment longer than I have to.”

“Michael!” Another wave of water coming from the other end of the yacht rushes over you; a powerful current threatening to violently throw you back off your feet with your dress fully soaked and your heels long gone off your feet by now.

Michael grunts, holding onto both of your hands to keep you steady as he senses another explosion nearby beginning to spark up. “Listen to me, baby. There isn’t much time now—this fucking thing is going to blow and—” Michael breathes heavily, clamping his free hand onto the solid railing next to you for support. “Hold on and get down to the raft. Just trust me, okay?! I have to let your hand go to do this, just save yourself and—”

BOOM! Another loud explosion occurs from the top middle of the yacht, tipping over ten tons of metal right towards the both of you in the middle.

“Take care of yourself and the twins, baby.” Michael looks into your teary eyes and although in a state of shock and denial, you see the acceptance of fate in your husband’s gaze. “I love you, Victoria.”

Michael lets go of your hand and move back as you clutch onto the railing, screaming at the top of your lungs as the ten tons of hot metal lands between the two of you with a horrific thud.

Had Michael not let go of you, your arm would have been torn and severed off from the metal or crushed Michael’s body entirely if he didn’t move back.

The impact of the explosion’s burst and the metal racking the yacht send both you and Michael flying to the opposite ends of the yacht.

Your screams are muffled by a rushing wave of water engulfing you, sinking you towards the end of the yacht as your body gives into exhaustion from the force.

Michael’s body skids over the deck washed away from the powerful current of the water but towards the worst impact of the explosion over the yacht.

The fabric of Michael’s dress shirt misses getting caught on the side railing of the yacht by half an inch which would have stopped Michael from sliding down any further.

Within the blink of an eye as Michael grunts, sliding over the other end of the yacht submerged under water before holding his breath and pulling his head out of the water, Michael hits the side of his neck over a chunk of the yacht’s shrapnel sticking out—instantly breaking his neck and killing him.

Everything’s faded to black for both of you.

The only thing you can see, feel, taste, and remember are the waters of Lake Tahoe; the very glistening, gorgeous waters you learned how to fish in, swam in and explored dozens and dozens of times on the yacht.

The very view of Lake Tahoe accompanied your morning and night from all sides of the compound no matter where you were, beautiful in so many ways but now it is the very reason why you’re fighting for your life.

The waters of the lake hit you back and forth, rocking your body like a ragdoll in the current—rendering you completely helpless.

Water also strongly rushes over each side of the yacht that struggles to make it back towards the compound but nonetheless is about to malfunction and break down completely.

Finally, with all wires burst and electrical fires put out by the water, the yacht comes to a creaking halt only a few hundred yards from the docks where Michael’s men, security, and anyone with helping hands frantically rushes to help—hollering for lifejackets, rafts, ropes, and concern but you and Michael are unable to hear nor react to them.

Water gave you enough of a beating within seconds, going down your throat and causing your mouth to burn bitterly.

You were unable to breathe properly half of the time, constantly gasping for air in your weakened lungs.

Your body was constantly being slammed back against the railings of the yacht and other various pieces of loose, hanging metal causing several, deep bruises to scatter over your body.

Once the yacht finally came to a halt, half destroyed and only a health hazard, you hit your back with a thud against the outer wall of the maintenance room and sat there slumped—half submerged in water.

You would have otherwise passed out right then and there, but the impact was just enough to wake you and slam water out of your chest by force.

You cough hoarsely, attempting to open your stinging eyes as you vomit and sputter out water all over yourself.

Whimpering, you rub your eyes with shaky, balled-up fists before trying to force the open and let out a weak scream.

You wince, opening your eyes to see your index finger’s nail almost completely broken off, bleeding and throbbing in pain.

Around you, you can see there’s about a knee-length worth of water around the yacht if you stood, but your legs refuse to obey you—feeling dragged down.

You vomit up more water, hunch over to the side, and are almost about to fall face-first into the water but your shaky hands manage to pull you up on your feet.

You breathe in and out, focused on getting all the water out of your system before moving or doing anything else first.

Once you feel there isn’t another drop of water to cough out and clear out of your chest and throat, you give your eyes another rub and blink to see clearly around you.

Although your eardrums throb from the impact of the water, you can still hear just fine and can’t mistake the blaring alarms from the compound for anything else—seeing Michael’s men at a distance from the compound.

“M-Michael,” you croak out, beginning to crawl through the water as if your legs were held down by concrete. “Michael?” You call out louder, surprised you still have a voice. “N-Niccolo? Verona?”

Whimpering from pain, you look around you on the yacht and can’t see or hear anyone else surrounding you.

Looking down at your body, you notice fresh cuts on your upper arm, and your dress skirt was torn in half revealing fresh forming bruises riddled over your thighs.

It’s as if life was beaten out of you, but the strength and perseverance inside of you push you to keep moving over the yacht.

“My… My babies… My…” Your eyes widen in horror as you spot Michael’s body on the other end of the yacht—lying face-first in the water. “MICHAEL!” You scream, feeling every bit of strength you didn’t know you had instantly returned to you at the sight of your husband.

You assume Michael must have passed out just like you, but the fact he has his face submerged under water panic you knowing he’s in the process of drowning.

You get up from your knees, running through the water and splashing your way over to Michael. “MICHAEL! Michael!” You collapse yet again in the water next to him.

“VICTORIA!? Victoria?!” You hear Tom’s voice hollering from a distance, moving to the yacht with another life raft next to Sonny. “Is that you?! We got help! We’re here!”

“Y-yes, it’s me! It’s me!” You shriek back, waving your arms up in the air. “Please, I’m here with Michael!”

“We’re coming!” Sonny calls back, “just hold on tight!”

“Michael, please!” You quickly flip your husband over, seeing his soaked body.

“Oh my G-God, my baby!” Your hands tremble as you cup Michael’s wet face out of the water, giving it a few lights slaps to wake him. “Come on baby, it’s okay. I’m here! Come on! Michael, wake up!”

You pat Michael’s cheeks, beginning to grow all the more anxious and nervous as you shake his body. “Wake up! Wake up!”

“Where’s Michael?!” Tom shouts, getting closer to the yacht as Sonny throws a rope over the railings.

“Here’s here with me but—but Tom, he’s not responding!” You sob, shaking Michael’s shoulders frantically. “Michael, baby!” You hold Michael’s body out of the water, pulling him onto your lap. “Come on!”

Tom and Sonny hop over the railing, holding on tightly to the ropes but instantly freeze—stunned at the sight of Michael’s limp body in your arms.

Tom and Sonny exchange equally horrified glances with one another, feeling their hearts sink to the pits of their stomach knowing that Michael is dead from the angle they stand in, seeing his neck snapped.

“Baby, please!” You try to pry Michael’s eyes open, holding him tightly to your body. “I’m here! I’m okay! I need you! I need you to be okay!” You can barely even see Michael from the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Victoria…” Tom takes a careful step towards you.

“NO!” You scream back at him. “He’s going to be okay! He’s alright!” You’re just about to put Michael down on the docks again to administer CPR when you gasp, seeing how limp his head hangs about in your arms.

“My God…” Sonny turns away, covering his eyes. “My fucking God.”

“Victoria.” Tom puts his hand over your shoulder but you see nothing, hear nothing, and feel nothing now.

Agony and bitterness swallow you whole, hitting you with absolute dread. You look down to see Michael’s neck is bruised—completely broken.

You feel as if your hands have a mind of their own, shakily trailing down your husband’s face to check for a pulse on his neck but feel nothing.

Your hands then begin to shake violently but you still feel nothing except a sense of shocking numbness shaking you to your core.

Michael’s dead and his body’s beginning to grow cold. He won’t respond to you or anyone now, and life has already faded out of Michael’s body.

To you in your arms, Michael seems as if he’s blissfully asleep like he always has been next to you in bed. He doesn’t look or appear dead but it’s the truth—Michael is dead.

“N-no…” You whimper out. “No, no…”

“Victoria, God, I’m so sorry.” Tom sniffles, “come here—” Tom tries to pull you away from Michael’s body gently, but you harshly shove him away from you.

“NO, NO, NO!” You scream-cry, “HE’S NOT DEAD! HE CAN’T BE! MICHAEL!” You give Michael’s motionless body another shake. “MICHAEL! PLEASE, BABY, I’M BEGGING YOU! Wake up! I’m here! I’M HERE!” Your sobs and screams can easily be heard all the way back to the compound.

Sonny whistles, signaling for the rest of his men to get on board knowing nobody—including him or Tom—can console you now.

Feeling helpless and utterly defeated, Tom watches you experience the worst mental breakdown in your life, unable to do anything about it.

“NO, DON’T TOUCH HIM!” You scowl, clutching Michael in your arms protectively and away from his men who scramble onto the yacht and stare at you. “Don’t touch him! He’s okay, he will be! He has to be!” You cup Michael’s face again, staring down at your dead husband.

You know all too well in the bottom of your heart that Michael isn’t going to be okay nor will he ever be.

“My Michael… Michael… Michael…” You hiccup.

The only thing you’re unaware of at this point is that the twins were safely taken to the compound immediately, receiving a medical checkup just in case thankfully from the distance of where they are, they can’t hear their mother’s screams but they also don’t know that their father died—still hopeful both of you are okay and coming home together.

“Daddy’s really brave!” Niccolo exclaims, snuggled up in a warm blanket by the fireplace and next to Verona.

“Yeah!” Verona beams at Dr. Katherine. “He and mama are heroes. They’re coming here too?”

“Yes, they will.” Dr. Katherine smiles at the twins. “Don’t you worry. The yacht has state-of-the-art safety features after all. Both of them are coming off as we speak.”

With Michael’s corpse in your arms, your mind can only now think of what he told you moments before the two of you were split apart.

“Take care of yourself and the twins, baby. I love you, Victoria.”

‘He knew he would die.’ Michael said goodbye to you, and it all registers now to you at once—sparking up deep nausea inside the pit of your stomach.

“MICHAELLLLLLLLLLLLL!” You let out a blood-curdling scream, more than enough for the twins to hear something and turn their heads to face the windows, watching the birds on the branches within the compound all fly off from the sound.

With the last bit of energy and strength leaving your body entirely, your eyes roll back and you give in to the harrowing weakness surrounding you.

Your body grows limp and your eyes roll back, fluttering shut as you and Michael’s lifeless bodies both land back into the water as you faint.

This period of unconsciousness you experience now is the only time for the next few years you’ll ever know peace because it’s also the only time you were blacked out completely cold—seeing and remembering nothing but darkness and being deeply asleep.

After this, nightmares, heartache, and tears are bound to haunt your nights for years to come only this time the experience will also be shared with your children.

It’s the thought of the twins, Vincent and James alone that stirs you back into consciousness slowly.

What happened after you passed out was that Tom, Sonny, and the rest of Michael’s guards took you and Michael off the yacht safely.

The men who worked in the maintenance room died instantly due to the explosions and their corpses were also fished out.

Tom had the burden of calling Carmela and Vito from New York as well as your father to tell them about the yacht accident which garnered terrified reactions alone, but Michael’s death was the most harrowing and unexpected news yet.

Tom could only stall for so long making these calls because he and Sonny both knew your real heartache and pain were about to start when you woke.

While you were unconscious, Dr. Katherine re-dressed you, cleaned your wounds, and kept your body warm by the fireplace the entire time under her watch as she monitored your state.

The family nanny—Esther—was in the next room comforting the twins, softly asking them questions about what happened, what they saw, and if they needed anything.

The twins were under the belief you were unconscious due to being hurt, but they still didn’t know where their father was or what happened to Michael. Esther told them that you would explain the rest once you were okay.

Esther knows the truth however that Michael is dead and she barely kept it together herself. She only left herself to her tears once she had some time alone in her room; her heart aching for the twins, Vincent and James knowing these young children are left fatherless because of a freak accident on the yacht is just a nightmare come to life.

Once you finally stir awake, you find yourself murmuring your children’s names. “N-Niccolo… Verona… Where… Where a-are… My babies? Are they…” You take a deep breath in, feeling pain riddle your lungs. “Babies…”

“Victoria,” Dr. Katherine gently tries to wake you by shaking your shoulders but it only resembles the way the water and yacht rocked your body.

You cry out, thrashing and gasping before you awaken only to find yourself in the guest room on the bed before the fireplace with Dr. Katherine sitting next to you—deeply worried.

“Where…” You begin to break down into sobs yet again, now in fear of losing the twins and your sons too. “Where are my babies? MY BABIES?!”

“They’re okay, they’re alright, Mrs. Corleone!” Dr. Katherine attempts to calm you down. “Niccolo and Verona are okay, and so are little Vincent and James. Please rest assured!”

“I want to see my children!” You sniffle, hiccupping through your cries as you try to get out of bed only to see the guest room door open as Esther glumly stands behind the twins.

“Mama!” The twins pout, looking at you sadly.

“They’re here, Mrs. Corleone.” Esther reassures you, “please don’t worry. Vincent and James are still fast asleep. Everything’s okay.”

“Please,” Dr. Katherine gestures for the twins to approach you as both she and Esther quietly make their way out of the guest room to give you and the children some privacy.

“My babies. Oh… Thank God,” you blink back tears, hugging the twins who rush into your arms.

“Mama, mama!” Verona hugs you tightly.

“You’re awake!” Niccolo peeks up at you. “Are you alright, mama?”

The sense of motherhood hits you immediately, calming your nerves and senses as in the moment, you can only focus on nothing but the happiness and safety of your children.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief especially since no harm has come to the twins, only that they look up at you now with deep concern.

“Oh, you two. Come here.” You sniffle, kissing both the top of Niccolo's and Verona’s heads as you embrace them tightly. “God… I’m so glad—so happy the two of you are both safe.” You glance up and down at the two of them.

“Don’t worry, mama!” Verona smiles at you, “I’m okay.”

“Me too, mama.” Niccolo nods at you. “Uncle Tom and Sonny got us back home and then we were with Dr. Katherine.”

“Super brave!” Verona exclaims.

“Yes, yes.” You smooch both of the twins’ cheeks, holding their hands in yours. “Both of you were very courageous and brave. We all had a very bad accident.”

“But mama’s hurt.” Niccolo pouts, pointing at your bandages and the bruising littering your arms.

“Mama…” Verona herself is on the verge of tears at the very sight of you injured.

“No, no, this is nothing.” You gesture to the bandage, moving your arm around fine. “I just got a little hurt from the boat moving.”

“The yacht exploded...” Niccolo frowns, “we heard the big boom.”

“But you and daddy are safe.” Verona gives out a little sigh of relief, hugging you again. “And we can take care of you and daddy!”

“Yes…” You hiccup tears swelling in your eyes once more about the mention of Michael. “Your father…”

“Where’s daddy, mama?” Niccolo asks curiously. “Can we go see him too?”

“Is daddy hurt too?” Verona asks nervously.

“Your daddy was very hurt,” you hold your sobs back, knowing you must tell your children the truth no matter what but as best as you can in a way that isn’t harsh, but believable. “He was the most hurt out of all of us.”

“Oh no…” Verona pouts. “Daddy got scratched and bruised?”

“Very…” You nod glumly, “your father got very, very hurt. The yacht… exploded and we got separated from the impact. I was on one side of the yacht, and your father on the other. Then, I was trying to find your father when the boat finally stopped moving.”

“You found daddy?” Niccolo asks.

“Yes, I did.” Tears stream down your splotchy, reddened cheeks as the twins’ eyes widen, seeing how suddenly devastated you’ve gotten. “I found your father right away and like I said, he was very, very hurt. Please, promise me one thing…” You squeeze both of the twins’ hands. “That you will let me tell James and Vincent this alone, okay? I’ll tell them about the accident on the boat when the time comes, but only I can talk to them about what happened today.”

“Okay, mama.” Verona nods.

“I promise not to tell.” Niccolo agrees.

“Good.” You smile weakly at the two through your tears. “Your daddy loves you so much and we all love him too but… Your father didn’t make it. It was an accident, and he got to hurt.”

“He didn’t…? Make it?” Niccolo’s voice breaks. “What?”

“Daddy is…?” A single tear slides down Verona’s cheek.

“Y-yes.” You hiccup, crying. “I’m so sorry, babies. Daddy’s gone. He isn’t with us anymore.”

The twins instantly burst out into tears; Niccolo shaking his head and in complete disbelief. “No, n-no! Daddy is here, he has to be, mama!”

“Niccolo, please.” You sniffle, seeing the pain in your son’s eyes. “I know, I thought so too but it’s the truth. Your father passed, he’s in a b-better place now.”

“Where…?” Verona hiccups, her bottom lip is quivering as she hugs your arm.

“Daddy’s in heaven.” You breathe out, embracing both of the crying twins again. “H-he’s in heaven now, he’s safe. He’s not hurt anymore.”

The sound of the twins crying in your arms is enough to make you hysterical already from sorrow but there’s nothing you can do anymore.

You hold your sobbing children in your arms, staring at the door with deadened eyes as silent tears run down your cheeks.

There’s still little Vincent and James awaiting to see their father again after their naps, barely able to understand the concept of life let alone death. ‘How will they react knowing their father is gone?’

Your heart feels torn out of your chest, smashed and empty forever. Instead, all you feel in your chest is a dull ache—the warmth gone from all the pain and suffering you continue to feel as your heartbroken children cry in your arms over the loss of their father.

‘Michael’s gone…’

“I w-want daddy back… Want to see daddy.” Niccolo hiccups, barely able to catch his breath.

“I know, honey. I know.” You cup Niccolo’s teary face with trembling hands, trying to reassure him. “Believe me…”

Defeated and broken by this loss, you feel helpless to see the sadness in your children’s eyes which could stop your heart alone. You’re surprised it even continues to beat at this point.

‘Michael… My love. Light of my life… My soulmate. Michael Corleone…’ Your mind, heart, and soul think of nothing but Michael and Michael only, desperately yearning and aching through your everlasting love for your husband.

You can think of nothing else now; not the funeral preparations for tomorrow, not of Vito and Carmela flying in from New York with your family, and you’ve already ignored the numerous phone calls incoming to your estate while making sure to strictly avoid going near your bedroom or Michael’s office.

Both rooms are barred to you, too painful to even think about entering knowing you’ll break down at the thought or expectation of Michael being in there, let alone picking up on the scent of his cologne.

Instead, as you no longer grieve alone, you and the children remain in the central family estate together—still taking in everything that’s happened but your mental state and physical exhaustion only worsen.

You sit in the living room just outside the guest room the children are fast asleep in; your eyes are bloodshot, your bottom lip trembling uncontrollably, your hands shaky and your heart aching so deeply in your chest you can feel it in your bones.

Every bruise and gash on your body throbs, every cut on your skin stings and you feel like a human wound, not a person—injured inside and out.

Somehow you surprise yourself by still living and breathing, dressed now in entirely black to mark your grieving period you know will never end.

You know all too well know that you’ll be surrounded by black fabrics for the rest of your life for as long as your heart beats because it will ache and only ache from the loss of your husband forever. That pain is eternal.

Tom steps into the living room quietly, sadly looking at you as you remain still. Instead, you continue to stare at the wall across from you, only able to think that you’ll never be able to sleep in your bed again now that Michael won’t be snuggled p by your side.

“Victoria,” Tom speaks softly out to you to grab your attention and for the first time in twenty minutes, your eyes move to focus on Tom instead of the wall.

Tom frowns, only feeling worse by sensing the pain you must be in. “You can see him now.”

Your body moves on Tom’s words alone; a wish to see Michael for what will be the last time before he’s laid in a coffin and the funeral preparations officially take place tomorrow.

Your body feels light and your mind is aware you’re moving, but you also feel as if you can’t control your own movements.

Your mind is astray and in a different kind of pain of its own as you follow Tom out of the estate and across the compound towards what can be called a makeshift morgue of sorts; a controlled cold environment for game that’s remained empty since Fredo’s body was kept there when he “drowned”.

Tom doesn’t even step inside as you two approach the makeshift morgue Instead, he opens the door for you to enter and closes it behind you once you enter.

From the moment you take a step inside, your skin immediately feels cold to the touch from the low temperatures in the small room.

Right in front of you remains Michael’s body laid out on a table, no longer dressed in the outfit he wore for the yacht trip today but a plain white dress shirt and black dress trousers.

“M-Michael,” you croak, instantly bursting into sobs at the sight of your dead husband’s corpse. “Michael!” You rush over to the table Michael’s laid out on, clutching onto it and staring at Michael’s lifeless body.

You clasp a hand over your mouth to muffle out your cries, noticing how Michael’s hair is still half damp and messy but from the lack of gashes, cuts, or any major wounds on him as well as his new, dry clothing, Michael still doesn’t appear dead to you.

When you came in to pay your respects to Fredo years ago, you noticed the mottled bruising and blood pooling in the pit of his body before you even noticed the gunshot wound to the back of his head; you knew your brother-in-law was indeed dead, but this doesn’t look at all the same for Michael.

You can barely even reach your hands out to Michael from how violently they shake, but the disbelief and state of denial your mind is in tries to convince you Michael is asleep instead of dead.

Indeed Michael appears like he’s sleeping peacefully and soundly, but the worst is only confirmed for you again once you place your hand over Michael’s cold chest to feel no heartbeat.

Just last night, you were snuggled up in Michael’s arms listening to his heart rate as he kissed your forehead, stroking your hair, and making light conversation over tomorrow’s yacht trip.

Not even a full twenty-four hours later, you can no longer feel nor hear your husband’s heartbeat like you did before.

“O-Oh my God, oh my G-God,” you hiccup throughout your sobs. “Michael… Michael…” You shake your head, feeling how cold Michael’s body is to the touch.

You can’t push aside the memories of leaning over Michael in bed at night while bringing his diabetic medication, leaning down and kissing his warm lips then watching your husband slowly stir out of sleep to look up at you.

You look at Michael’s closed eyelids, expecting him to wake up and greet you like he did all those nights, but it doesn’t happen.

“My baby… My love.” You run your hand down Michael’s chest, looking between the fabric of his dress shirt to see no bruising on his chest.

You check Michael’s limp hands, noticing nothing there or on his arms either.

Confused and mostly distraught, you slowly move to the other side of the table and gasp to spot deep, violet bruising on Michael’s neck from where he broke it.

You hold back vomit down your throat, unable to accept the cause of Michael’s death, to begin with.

Hiccupping again, you sob uncontrollably over Michael’s chest—refusing to let go of him.

“W-why, baby? Why did you…? Please, please come back to me, Michael.” You beg, “please, please, PLEASE!” You clasp Michael’s cold, lifeless hand in your warm ones; your wedding band tinkling against his. “No… I just can’t—I can’t believe this. You’re not gone… N-No, you’re not! You can’t be!”

Your tears soak into Michael’s suit as you run your free hand shakily through his silky, dark hair, mewling throughout your sobs. “T-take me with you, at least…! Should have… Should have been me. I can’t—I can’t…” You struggle to breathe through your sobs, panting as you stare at Michael’s face. “I can’t live without you, Michael. I can’t. I l-love you so much. I love you, I love, I love you!” You shriek throughout your sobs, “I can’t live or breathe without you! You’re my everything! You’re my life and—and our babies… Oh God, Michael… Our children—” You sob even harder, coughing between your words. “We lost you and now nothing matters. N-nothing… Nothing—I’ll never, never…” You clasp a gentle hand over Michael’s cheek to caress his still angelic face, squeezing your eyes shut as tears continue to stream down your cheeks. “I will never, never, never love again, baby. Never, never again. No, it’s only you for me. I can’t… I can’t do this, I can’t accept you’re gone forever.”

You raise Michael’s hand up to your mouth, crying before kissing the back of it. “I died. I died…” You hear Tom opening up the door to the makeshift morgue but you ignore him completely. “I died with you there—I’m not even here anymore. I don’t have anything left. N-nothing makes sense without you!”

Tom bites down on his lip, forcing his tears back as he’s been on the verge of losing it himself.

“Victoria, please.” Tom places his hand gently on your shoulder but you remain unphased, looking down at Michael instead.

“I can’t go, I can’t take a single s-step away from you. I don’t want to say goodbye! Please, Michael, please—” You stare down at Michael’s face in your hand. “I have to… Have to be strong for our babies but without you, I just—” You squeeze your eyes shut, “my pillar, my s-soulmate gone… I don’t want to be in this world if it isn’t with you and our b-babies.”

Tom swallows hard, knowing now more than ever he needs to take you out of here before you have another mental breakdown let alone do something to hurt yourself out of your immense grief.

“I love you so much.” You confess to Michael through your sobs, “I love you, I love you! I’ve a-always loved you, my love! My baby!” You lean down, pressing your forehead against Michael’s.

“Victoria, please, come with me,” Tom murmurs, trying to pull you away from Michael’s body.

“I’m not saying goodbye! I’M NOT!’ You thrash in Tom’s arms as he begins to forcefully pull you out of the makeshift morgue. “T-this isn’t goodbye! It’s not! I’m not—” You stumble outside of the morgue with Tom but you’re quick to shove him off of you, clinging onto the side of the building to hold your balance. “T-this isn’t goodbye—”

“Victoria!” Tom quickly holds onto you from behind, pulling you up as you’re just about to collapse to the ground, vomiting over the cobblestone ground from crying uncontrollably.

Michael Corleone is dead and although he remains alone, lying on a cold, metal table in the makeshift morgue away from the sight of the estates, he’s heard everything you’ve said to him.

The first voice Michael’s heard since his death on the yacht is yours and yours only.

Michael himself isn’t aware he’s dead but believes he may be in a coma or sleeping deeply at the very least.

Michael’s own motion of events is that he thought he had a nightmare, experiencing some sort of freak incident, and is still within his dream experiencing sleep paralysis at best with you trying to wake him up because he ultimately feels just fine.

Michael doesn’t know he’s completely undead now; he can’t feel fear either but he does feel and understand the warmth of your love and touch.

Michael also senses something else but can’t entirely register it to himself; your life force and blood surging through your body that he’ll soon come to understand.

Hours pass into the night as Michael lays there and the yacht is finally brought back to the docks, being pulled apart as police have arrived on the scene to get notes and investigate with Michael’s men quietly.

You feel as if you’ve lived through and died in many different lives tonight alone, spending the rest of your miserable evening back inside the family compound with your sleeping children.

You’ve felt nauseous since Tom brought you back inside but you brushed it off due to vomiting earlier and nothing else, trying to stay warm by the fireplace as the twins and Vincent snuggle up on the king-sized bed behind you—James’ spare crib brought to the side to stay close.

Your children are the only thing distracting you now from breaking down into sobs again, and even Vito and Carmela who arrived in the dead of night have yet to approach you personally because they’ve heard just how utterly inconsolable you are.

But at the makeshift morgue, Michael feels no different than when waking from a deep sleep. Feeling perfectly fine, Michael’s eyes slowly blink open; no longer their usual hazel color, but dark like onyx.

Michael gazes up at the ceiling, feeling the coldness of the building he’s in. Slowly, he sits up but is greeted by a constricting pain in his chest.

Michael grunts, placing a hand over his heart only to feel and sense no heartbeat, but rather pain spreading through his muscles with every passing moment.

Michael’s head begins pounding next as if he’s been suffering from a migraine for days, and just as he rubs his temples gingerly, the pain only worsens and trails down to his mouth.

A stinging and aching pain rang out in Michael’s body all over; his mouth felt sore his gums burning as if all of his teeth are bound to fall out at any given minute.

Letting out a wheeze of air, Michael’s lungs burn as if he’s trying to breathe under a pool of acid.

No longer able to cope with the various stages of pain rushing through his body, Michael grabs onto his cold face with both hands and gasps—his mouth opening as his teeth quiver and begin to sharpen into a set of fans.

Michael’s eyes water and begin to sting, but nothing compares to the agonizing pain he feels in his neck as if he’s reliving the impact of breaking it over and over again.

Just as Michael’s about to cry out from the pain, all of it suddenly ceases to exist—leaving his body entirely.

Catching his breath, Michael squeezes his eyes shut expecting the unexplainable swarm of pain to return to him, but nothing happens.

Instead, a horrific, ungodly thirst settles inside of Michael, demanding him to drink, drink, drink. He feels as if his thirst will only be settled if he drinks the entire sea and more, guaranteeing no satisfaction.

Staring around him at the slightly familiar building he’s in, Michael isn’t aware of how exactly he ended up in the makeshift morgue or the transformation he’s going through. All he knows is the thirst—only the thirst.

As Michael sits up, the cross on the wall of the makeshift morgue behind him slowly turns upside down—combusting into blue flames.

Michael doesn’t notice anything, simply glancing at the door in front of him and taking in a deep breath as his feet hit the ground and off the table he was placed on.

All the way from the makeshift morgue which is purposefully placed further away than most buildings and areas on the compound for obvious reasons, Michael can smell you, or more specifically, Michael can smell your blood.

While Michael isn’t entirely aware of what he’s thirsting for or sensing, the last shred of humanity inside of him tells you that he needs to get you and the rest will make sense.

Instead of being curled up in bed with your children, you remain on the sofa in front of the fireplace within the guest room—only comforted by the fact all of your babies are still in here sound asleep and safe.

You know for the sake of your own sanity you can’t spend the rest of tomorrow or every day after that explaining just what happened to the children, but your motherly instincts kick in and you know your babies are your only priority.

The children are concerned for you just as you are for them, especially since they know their mother was hurt in an accident. They want to be with you and in your presence just as much as you want to do the same for them.

Aside from the sounds of the crackling fire coming from the fireplace, crickets chirp outside with the guest bedroom window slightly open.

Stars are scattered throughout the sky, adorning a full moon but there’s nothing left in the world for you to admire now that you know you’ll have to do it alone.

You lay on the sofa miserably with a faux fur throw over you, snuggled up and trying to enjoy the warmth the fireplace provides, comforting you into sleep.

All of your sobbing and crying has physically exhausted you as much as it has mentally, and your sore eyes beg to be closed and let your body relax.

Before you’re even fully aware of it, you’ve drifted off into deep sleep right then and there.

The environment you see around you is completely clear, and you suddenly find yourself in Corleone, Sicily within your dream.

You glance around you, feeling the hot Sicilian sun and warm weather over your skin. You can see you’re in your own fruit garden just behind you and Michael’s villa in Corleone.

Your garden is blossoming with fruits and plants alike, painting a lively picture and you notice that you’re not hurt or injured in any kind of way, but rather healthy and sound, wearing your favorite summer swing dress.

As you look up, you notice Michael just ahead in the midst of your garden.

He’s dressed casually, his hair fluffy and combed back rather than heavily slicked and Michael keeps both of his hands in the pockets of his trousers as he looks at the ripe fruit surrounding him with curiosity.

“Michael?” You call out, finding strength in your voice.

Your dream tricks you into believing you may just be experiencing reality because the ache in your heart is too real to ignore at the sight of your husband living and healthy.

Michael turns to face you, having heard you call his name. His eyes warm up to spot you running up to his arms as you embrace Michael tightly—wrapping your arms around your husband’s shoulders.

“Michael, o-oh, Michael!” You burst into sobs immediately, clutching onto his chest. “You’re here!”

“Baby, baby—come here. Yes, I’m here, darling.” Michael gazes down at you with sad confusion in his eyes. “Where else would I be?”

You can’t stop the tears from streaming down your face as you stare up at your husband; his heart beating, his skin warm to the touch.

‘He’s real. He’s right here in front of me, he has to be.’ This is far too good to be a dream as nothing appears to be off or unusual.

“With me.” You cup Michael’s face with trembling hands, “you’re here with me. My God…”

“I’m in Sicily now, darling,” Michael tells you. “I’m here, but you’re not.”

“I’m… I’m not?” Your eyes begin to widen.

“No.” Michael wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to him. “I don’t want you to be either but… I don’t want to let go of you either because I’m afraid I won’t see you again.”

“You will, you will!” You protest, shaking your head. “I’ll stay here with you, I will.”

“But you can’t.” Michael frowns at you, refusing. “It’s not right. You can’t come here right now. It’ll be much longer before you do.”

“Why?” You hiccup throughout your sobs, “t-this is our home. Our paradise. We live here.”

“I know, baby.” Michael pushes a curtain of your hair behind your ear. “I know, but I’m still here.”

“I don’t k-know what this is!” You sob hysterically, refusing to let go of Michael. “You’ve… You’ve come to visit me in my dream? This isn’t real, is it?”

Michael’s eyes fill with sadness as he hugs you tighter. “You’ll be here with me someday, but not now. It’s not your time.”

“My time…” You breathe, your heart breaking over and over again. “Y-you’re gone, Michael. You’re g-gone. It hasn’t even been a full day! S-so… So then you must know about everything.”

“Yes.” Michael nods glumly at you. “I wish I could control it all, but all I know is what I know.”

“Can you see me?” You sniffle.

“Of course, I can, baby.” Michael rubs up and down your back. “Not there, but only here. I’m not a part of that world anymore.”

“But that was our world,” you sob back, “i-it has no meaning now that you’re not in it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart. Our children are there with you.” Michael tells you.

“I know, I know—” You attempt to catch your breath, “and our babies miss you so much. So much, Michael. Oh God, the twins can’t take it.”

Michael’s eyes begin to sting with tears for what you believe is the first time you’ve ever seen so. “I know, darling. It’s not going to be easy for them, but in time they’ll have to understand.”

“And Vincent?” You whimper. “He doesn’t understand, and neither does little James. Vincent thinks you’re away on business, he’s waiting for you to come home.”

“I love both my boys, you tell them that, baby.” Michael squeezes your hand reassuringly, “the twins know better whereas their younger siblings don’t. Keep on it. Tell Vincent and James I’m on business and when they’re old enough to know the truth, you and the twins will tell them. You’ll have to. That’s all you can do for now, darling and you’ve already done so well.”

“I have?” You blink back tears pooling in your eyes.

“Yes, I can hear you, Victoria.” Michael plants a kiss on your forehead. “You’re crying so much but please—”

“I can’t!” You clutch onto Michael’s hands tightly. “I can’t s-stop, I miss you too much. You’re gone and now nothing matters. I don’t know how I’m going to live without you, Michael! I wanted to die with you!”

“Either it was you or it was me.” Michael looks you in the eyes. “Either you would get crushed to death by that metal falling off the yacht or it would be me and what did I tell you? I told you I would die for you and the children without a second’s hesitation, didn’t I? And I did.”

“You died…” Your bottom lip quivers uncontrollably. “You died for me…for our babies…”

“They need you.” Michael cups your face with both hands, “they need their mother. You’re a strong woman, you’re my wife. We didn’t have a choice back there did we, Victoria?”

“No.” You admit, swallowing hard. “B-but it’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“I know, baby, but I can help.” Michael gently caresses your face.

“How?”

“You can come to visit me in your dreams like this.” Michael offers, “you know I’m in Sicily now. I’m not going anywhere.”

“A-are you happy?” You ask, smiling weakly at your husband.

“Yes,” Michael tells you truthfully. “This is our home after all, isn’t it? I’ll be here forever.”

“How can I come to see you again then?” You hiccup.

“Just the way you did tonight,” Michael replies, placing his hand over your heart. “Think of me. Think of me, and you’ll come here. I can’t promise it’ll work every time but I’ll keep you close to me forever.”

“I love you so much, Michael Corleone.” You sob even harder, holding onto Michael’s arms. “You’re my soulmate, my forever, my always. You’re the love of my life!”

“I love you so much more than you can ever know, Victoria,” Michael tells you back. “In this world and in the next, I’ll continue to love you and only you. I’ll wait for you here forever if I have to. Don’t forget me, okay?” Michael leans in to press a kiss over your lips that ache all over for more.

‘No, don’t go! Don’t go, DON’T GO, DON’T GO! MICHAEL!’ Unable to cope, all you can feel and remember is kissing Michael back deeply right up until you stir awake—almost falling off the sofa.

You stare at the flames flickering in the fireplace before you, fresh tears streaming down your face and reminding you that you’re here—bruised, battered, with fatherless children as a widow.

‘Michael.’ Your heart aches in your chest as if it’s bleeding from the inside out��no different from the feeling that you felt when embracing Michael in your dream.

You push off the faux fur throw off you, rising up to your feet slowly from the sofa and stumbling quietly out of the guest room.

All you want is to feel Michael’s presence once more and no harm can be done by just entering his office to smell his cologne again and remember the places he was in.

Just this one time, your heart can take it and you know Michael’s office is the only place his presence has always lingered in the longest.

You make your way down the hallway and past the study room, pushing open Michael’s office door and taking a step inside.

The office smells faintly of cigarettes, but the scent of Michael’s cologne and body wash are more overpowering in the best way possible.

You feel your hand alongside the wall by the doorway and turn on the lights to Michael’s office, dimming it before you continue to walk inside.

Sniffling, you approach Michael’s office desk and carefully rotate a framed photograph on the corner of his desk to face you.

You gaze at the family photograph you all took just a month ago; Michael by your side with Verona by your arm, Niccolo by Michael’s, and little baby Vincent held in your arms while Michael held James.

“God…” You whimper, touching Michael on the photograph and admiring the photograph as a whole, taking a moment to yourself.

Michael himself was neither seen nor suspected of moving around on the compound, but then again he didn’t make any noise nor was he staggering around to be caught as unusual by anybody outside.

Michael stuck to the shadows where the security lights didn’t shine and easily got into the central family estate; nobody removed the keys that were securely tucked in the bottom of Michael’s pockets after all.

Continuing to pick up on your scent, Michael stands by the doorway of his office ominously and he would have continued to linger by silently if the floorboards underneath him didn’t creak.

Taken by surprise, you flinch and turn your head immediately to the doorway, expecting one of Michael’s men or even Tom but all you can see is Michael.

Out of shock, your muscles freeze and you drop the photograph to the ground—glass shattering into dozens of tiny pieces everywhere.

Michael doesn’t flinch or react to it, but rather keeps his gaze on you and you only. He appears completely normal, fine, and healthy—dressed the same way he was in the makeshift morgue.

“Michael?” You feel all the breath knocked out of your lungs, unable to react properly. “You…”

‘Something’s wrong.’ Perhaps still disillusioned by your dream and wondering if you’re sleepwalking or still dreaming somehow, you stumble backward.

“Michael, are you…?” You begin to panic as Michael neither responds nor moves forward but then he begins to take a step toward you.

“Victoria,” Michael says, his voice clear and soothing.

“O-oh,” a sense of relief hits you as you swallow hard, staring at Michael—still trying to figure out if any of this is real.

Michael can hear the way your heart beats in your chest, thundering from fear, confusion, and shock. He can make out the sound of your blood surging through your veins so loudly that it's enough to make Michael’s eyes ring if he listens too keenly any longer.

The sounds of your lively, warm body filled with blood are bad enough to remind Michael of the thirst that he can no longer hold back—corroding the last bits of his humanity and being only focused and fueled by bloodthirst.

Michael can no longer see you as his wife, the love of his life, but as something to feed on.

Now approaching you, Michael reaches out his hand and touches your cheek—hungered by how warm your skin feels.

Unable to move an inch from sheer terror, you can’t do anything but stare back at Michael and watch his movements.

Michael’s brows furrow as he moves his hand off your cheek, instead trailing it down to your stomach before he places a hand over it.

Michael can hear a very tiny heartbeat, a newly formed heart at that. Whether Michael could somehow cause you to hear it too as a result is seen to be unknown, but your eyes widen and you let out a shaky gasp to hear the heartbeat as well.

Michael senses growing life inside of you, what would be your fifth child with him and your second daughter whom you would have named Emilia.

You’re completely unaware you’ve just conceived weeks ago, under the impression you’re not pregnant at all until now.

Before you can even react to your surprise pregnancy let alone Michael sensing life inside of you, Michael uses your confused state to his advantage.

Michael grabs you harshly and you let out a scream as he immediately lunges towards your neck—letting his new grown, sharp fangs pierce through the supple skin of your neck to feed on you.

Shrieking and panicking, you’re unable to move out of Michael’s grasp—a crushing hold that could easily break your bones if Michael wanted to, much stronger than anything human.

Your blood rushes into Michael’s mouth and begins to satisfy his thirst, but from where the light hits your body at an angle, the only thing that causes Michael to pull back and stop is when he spots the mottled, violet bruises over your arms.

Blood smears over Michael’s mouth as his humanity kicks in and suddenly his memory reminds him of the explosion on the yacht.

Michael immediately lets go of you and you drop to his office floor with a thud, shaking with fear and sobbing.

Weakened, you clutch onto your bloody neck and whimper, begging for Michael not to hurt you or come closer. “N-no, Michael, no! Please, p-please, what are you doing? This isn’t you!”

You try to crawl away to no avail—Michael’s much faster and stronger than you, and his thirst hasn’t even come close to being satisfied yet.

Michael picks you off the ground like a ragdoll, forcing you to face him.

Sobbing and crying out, you flail in his arms and are forced to watch Michael drag the tip of his fangs over his wrist, slitting it.

“O-Oh my God!” You panic, watching as Michael takes a mouthful of his own blood before taking his free hand and forcefully prying your mouth open before spitting his blood back down your throat.

You cough, choking but ultimately swallowing down Michael’s blood without a choice.

In just a few seconds, you feel all of the energy deplete out of your body and throw your head back—gasping deeply for air.

Fresh blood glistens over your neck and Michael’s blood oozes out of your mouth and drips down your neck.

Your vision begins to fade and grow red as if you were staring at a glowing light and couldn’t pull away. “M-Michael… Michael?”

“I’m here, darling.” You hear Michael’s voice echoing in your head, soft and convincing just like it was in your dream. “Just come with me. I’ll take you with me now.”

Distracted, dazed, and with nothing left inside of you to protest or fight back, the last thing you see before your vision goes entirely black are Michael’s fangs covered in your blood as he growls at you and leans into your neck again.

As Michael tears through your jugular, the last thing heard on the Lake Tahoe compound are your blood-curdling screams echoing throughout.

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