Chapter 8
The taxi rolled through the bustling streets.
I leaned back in the seat, sunlight pouring through the glass and warming my face, yet I felt numb to its gentleness.
The warmth I once knew had been buried along with my mother and baby.
The driver, an elderly man with silver hair, glanced at me through the rearview mirror.
After a pause, he said softly, “Don’t look back, sweetheart. Look ahead.”
He spoke the words I hadn’t dared to say aloud: “Look ahead”.
Three days later, the entire Stonehaven financial world erupted in shock.
Renato Moretti had passed away, and his final will stunned everyone: he left the family’s core assets and controlling shares to
As for Vincenzo, the golden boy and presumed heir, he was granted a mere 2% of the company and a forgotten villa in the countryside.
Paparazzi swarmed the gates of the Moretti estate.
In the tabloids’ grainy photos, Vincenzo sat alone on the stone steps, wrapped in a black coat, unshaven and hollow-eyed, drinking whiskey straight from the bottle.
He had fallen from the pinnacle of power into a pit of ruin.
[Moretti Heir Disowned]
[Underworld Throne Slips Away]
[Fallen Prince Breaks Down in the Street]
The headlines blazed across business columns and gossip rags alike.
Meanwhile, I walked alone through the narrow lanes of old Lanswell.
Today, I had an interview at a newly established biotech firm.
Some advised me to take it easy.
“You own Moretti shares now,” they said.
“You could live ten lifetimes without lifting a finger. Why work so hard?”
But I never wanted handouts. I planned to donate every cent of that inheritance.
I refused to live as someone’s legacy or carry the weight of another’s redemption.
What I sought was a kingdom built with my own hands- a future that belonged to Isabella, and no one else.
Night had fallen by the time the interview ended.
As I stepped out of the office building, a black Rolls-Royce eased to a stop in front of me.
Inside sat a figure I knew all too well-Vincenzo.
He looked thinner, worn down, haunted by a remorse he could no longer conceal.
He stepped out and moved to block my path, his voice raspy.
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“Isabella, I came to pick you up from work.”
I didn’t look at him.
I walked right past, as if he were a stranger I’d never known.
He caught up quickly, stood in front of me again, and asked in a low voice, “Do you hate me that much?”
I met his gaze steadily.
“It’s not hate,” I said.
“It’s that I finally stopped loving you.
He staggered back a step.
“You know what my father always said before he died?” he murmured.
“The Morettis owe her, and one day, we’ll repay that debt.”
I lowered my eyes and replied softly, “I’m not part of the Morettis anymore. The only person I owe now is myself. It’s a chance to begin again.”
He stood frozen and watched me walk away until I disappeared from view.
He collapsed inside, a man shattered, like a child who no longer knew where home was.
And I finally found my way out of the abyss.
My new life had only just begun.
