The Don’s Favorite Lover Vanished

---- Chapter 24 Chiara's POV An hour later, I stood alone in the Piazzale Michelangelo. Ablack helicopter descended from the sky, kicking up a furious wind. The door slid open. Vincenzo stood there, his hand outstretched to me. His face held a complex expression I couldn't read. Without hesitation, I got on. We flew over the Florence skyline, over the Apennine mountains, and finally landed at a heavily fortified private estate deep in the Alps. It was isolated from the world. As beautiful as a fairy tale, and as cold as a prison. He led me into the main house. I froze. This place...

it was a perfect replica of the fantasy I'd ---- sketched on a forgotten piece of paper. The house with the white picket fence and the small garden. Our home. "Do you like it?" he asked from behind me, his voice hoarse. "It took me three months to build. Every detail is exactly as you drew it." "The future we were supposed to have." "The future you threw away," I corrected him, my voice flat. I walked into the living room. On the wall was a photo of us-our only one, taken in Venice. In the kitchen was the expensive set of French cookware I had mentioned once.

Upstairs, in the bedroom, two books sat on the nightstand. One by Calvino, one by Dante. My favorites. I pushed open another door. It was a nursery. Pink walls, a white cradle, all sorts of ---- toys. Everything was exactly as I had imagined it. "Vincenzo," my voice was cold. "What is this?" "T wanted you to see it," he said, following me into the room. He walked to the wall and pressed a hidden switch. Apanel slid open, revealing a safe. He opened it and took out my sketches. "T saw them," he spread them out on the cradle's sheets, one by one, like they were holy relics.

"I saw your plans, your dreams... our dreams." "Those weren't our dreams," I cut him off. "They were my fantasy. A fantasy you tore to pieces with your own hands." "Tt's not broken!" he insisted, his voice raw with desperation, "I can fix it! Look, it's all here! I built the garden you wanted, I bought the piano you liked, I even have the names you picked out for our children!" He pointed to two silver pendants hanging over the cradle. Engraved on them were the names: Sofia and Vincent Jr. ---- I looked at the pendants, at the near-insane hope in his eyes, and I felt a profound sense of pity.

"Vincenzo," I looked at him calmly. "Do you think building a house can fix everything? Do you think recreating my dream will make me forget all the pain you caused me?" "T can change! I swear, I can..." "You can't change." I shook my head, then pulled the loaded Beretta M9 from my coat. T pressed the muzzle to my own temple. Vincenzo's eyes widened in horror. The color drained from his face. "Chiara! What are you doing?! Put the gun down!" "Let me go." My voice was flat, my finger on the trigger. "No! Iam never letting you leave me again!" "Then you can watch me die," I said, my voice steady.

" Right here. In this perfect, beautiful cage you built for me." ---- "Don't..." his voice was a desperate plea. "Please... don't do this..." "You forced me to, Vincenzo." I looked at his twisted, agonized face and smiled. "You destroyed my future once. I won't give you the chance to do it again." Iclosed my eyes and began to squeeze the trigger. "PLL LET YOU GO!" He finally shattered, the words tearing from his throat in a raw scream. "V'll let you go! Just put the gun down!" T opened my eyes and watched him collapse to his knees, a defeated child. I slowly lowered the gun.

"Get the helicopter ready," I said. "Take me back to Florence." He didn't answer. He just knelt there, his breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. I didn't look at him again. I turned and walked out of our so-called home. As I left the main house, I saw Marco hurry toward ---- Vincenzo, handing him a tablet, his face grim. "Boss, something's happened. Alessandro di Medici... he killed himself." My steps faltered. Vincenzo froze, looking up at Marco in disbelief. "Half an hour ago," Marco continued. "In his apartment. Shot himself. He left a note." He turned the tablet toward me.

On the screen was Alessandro's neat handwriting. Just three words. "Tam sorry."