Chapter 6
Vincenzo stood at a deserted intersection, the cigarette in his hand burned down to ash, yet his fingertips felt nothing.
He gazed at Stonehaven’s indifferent night sky, and, in that hollow silence, finally realized that the woman who once tried to heal him with gentleness was never coming back.
Like a madman, he mobilized the entire Moretti network.
He locked down airports, seaports, hospitals, and transit systems. He scoured every outbound record and placed surveillance on the accounts of every friend and relative I had.
But he forgot, I was never the obedient, docile woman he imagined.
I was never his possession, never his puppet.
Ten years ago, I stepped into the underworld to save my mother. Ten years later, I cut every tie and walked out of the darkness on my own terms.
At that moment, Renato still lay in a coma. His surgery fees had already climbed into seven figures.
The company, shaken by Vincenzo’s volatile state, plunged into chaos. The stock price collapsed, shareholders staged a rebellion, and rumors spread within the syndicate:
“It was time for him to step down.”
Vincenzo had lost his father’s support, lost control of the Moretti empire, and lost the respect of the Stonehaven financial world
that once revered him.
But none of it hurt more than losing me.
One week later, Vincenzo received an anonymous package.
Inside was a thick stack of documents- every page detailing what I had done for him over the years.
I had funded charitable projects, all under his name.
When faced with death, I quietly signed an organ donor consent form. The final page bore my rough, yet deeply moving handwriting:
[May all those who cherish life be treated with kindness. And if not loved, then at least understood.]
Every word he read cut him like a knife.
That night, Vincenzo locked himself in his office.
The next day, he appeared at the Stonehaven Times Annual Charity Gala.
Wearing a black suit, with a white camellia pin-my favorite flower-on his lapel, he stood before the world’s media and declared: “The Moretti Group will be restructured into a global foundation for medical research and women’s health.
“I will spend the rest of my life atoning for her.”
That was all he said.
He once commanded power and called the shots in every room, yet failed to hold onto the one woman who truly loved him.
Now, he was willing to sacrifice everything: reputation, wealth, freedom, if it meant even the smallest chance, I’d look back and forgive him.
The press conference spiraled into chaos. Dozens of media outlets rushed to report on the “cold-blooded heir” who bared his soul in a rare, public confession.
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Chapter 8
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That night, the Stonehaven Evening Post devoted its entire front section-eight full pages-to one headline:
[The Most Expensive Transformation in Morettis’ History For the Woman Who Got Away.]
When Vincenzo returned to the empty villa, silence greeted him.
He sat at my old desk and turned through the pages of my household planning Journal, the quiet sketches of a life we never truly
had.
Then, tucked deep in the bottom drawer, he found an unsent letter.
It was addressed to our deceased child.
The date matched the days right after my surgery.
[Dear little one,
[I once thought the hardest thing in the world was forgiving Vincenzo, but I later realized-forgiving myself was harder.
[Forgiving the version of me who knew everything was slowly rotting-yet stayed anyway. I thought I was being patient, that I was protecting you, that I was giving you a whole family.
[But in the end, I couldn’t even protect you.
[You were so small. You never even got the chance to open your eyes and see this world.
[Instead, you were buried along with a broken marriage, lost to the night.
[I kept wondering-if I had left sooner, run faster- would you still be alive today?
[Sweetheart, I swear… No matter how hard it gets, I’ll carry your name with me.
[I will crawl out of this hell. For us.]
Vincenzo broke down.
His sobs came in waves. A crushing ache tore through his chest like a blade through flesh.
He staggered out the door, blind with grief, and sped through the city to the place I used to work, the health tech company I had once managed.
But everything had changed.
New security systems. New receptionists.
My world had moved on.
He waited outside the building from dawn to dusk.
Just when hope began to wane, he saw me.
I walked out in a tailored slate-blue suit, poised and sharp as ever, my heels steady, my gaze cool.
Vincenzo ran to me, arms outstretched. His voice trembled, desperate, broken.
“Isabella!”
I looked at him. My eyes were hard, and my voice, cold as steel.
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Chapter 6
“Mr. Moretti, have some self-respect,” I said formally.
“Whatever was between us ended long ago.”
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