Lorenzo’s POV
The wipers swiped frantically, but they couldn't clear the blur in front of my eyes.
I floored it. Red lights, wrong-way traffic, blaring horns—I ignored them all.

Isabella had to be at the apartment.
She was sentimental. She must be there, waiting for my explanation.
The elevator numbers ticked up like a countdown, each one jarring my nerves.
Ding—
The second the doors opened, I practically fell out, stumbling into the apartment.
"Bella! Bella!"

I called her name. My voice echoed in the empty living room.
No one.
A dead silence.
I rushed into the bedroom and froze.

The floor was covered in a layer of ash. The smell of something burnt hung in the air.
It was all our photos.
Wedding photos, honeymoon photos, everyday moments... every piece of our past, she had burned to ash.
Only one picture frame was left, face down on the table.
With a trembling hand, I flipped it over. It was a solo picture of me. The glass was shattered, a crack running right across my face.
This was it. The final break.
Worse than killing me.
I ran like a madman to the walk-in closet.
I threw open the doors and stared.
Everything I ever gave her was still there.
The designer gowns I bought to make up for my guilt, the priceless jewelry—all of it, neatly arranged, some with the tags still on.
She didn't take a thing.
Except herself.
She had scrubbed herself clean from my world.
"Boss..." Marco came running in, out of breath, a file in his hand.
"Did you find her? Where is she?" I grabbed him by the collar.
Marco couldn't meet my eyes. He handed me the document, his hand shaking.
"This... this is from City Hall."
I snatched it. One look was all it took. The blood in my veins ran cold.
DIVORCE DECREE
My signature was at the bottom. And Isabella's.
The date was from three years ago.
"What is this?" I roared. "When did I sign this?"
"It was... three years ago, sir. It was slipped into the pile of documents you signed to bail out Cassandra..." Marco's voice got quieter. "She filed a petition under a little-known clause in the Omertà. She dissolved the marriage."
I stumbled backward, knocking over a vase by the entrance.
So, three years ago, I had pushed her away with my own hands.
For three years, my self-righteous attempts to "compensate" her were just a joke in her eyes.
"The nursing home!"
A thought struck me like lightning. A last straw.
"Nonna! She cares about Nonna the most. She must be there!"
I pushed Marco aside and ran back into the rain.
The car skidded on the wet road. I don't know how many red lights I ran.
I was there.
I burst into the nursing home lobby, ignoring the front desk, and sprinted to room 308.
"Nonna! Is Isabella here?"
I threw the door open.
What greeted me was an empty bed. Even the sheets were gone.
Only the lingering smell of disinfectant remained.
"Who are you?" The head nurse's voice was sharp with suspicion.
I spun around, grabbing her by the shoulders. "The old woman who lived here? Elena Romano? I'm her grandson-in-law!"
The nurse's expression shifted from suspicion to contempt.
"Grandson-in-law?" She sneered, shaking my hand off. "You have the nerve?"
"What did you say?"
"The old lady? She's dead. Died last week." Her words hit me like a sledgehammer.
"Passed away? Transferred to another hospital?"
"Dead!"
The word exploded in the hallway.
My mind went blank. A sharp ringing filled my ears.
"No... impossible... I was paying for the best medical care..."
"Can money buy a life?" The nurse advanced on me, her eyes filled with rage. "That night, the old lady had a massive heart attack. She was coding, her heart flatlined on the monitor! We were looking for the doctor, and where was the doctor?"
She pointed a finger at my nose, her voice trembling.
"He was bandaging the ankle of that so-called Miss Viti! All because you said, 'Save Cassandra first'!"
Boom—
The memory flooded back.
That day, Isabella had knelt on the floor, begging me.
"Please, let the doctor save Nonna first..."
And what did I do?
I had coldly brushed her aside. "If she has the strength to cause trouble, she's not dying."
Then I had walked away, carrying Cassandra, who had a scraped ankle.
I walked away, leaving Isabella alone with my cold back, and a body that was already gone.
"Her granddaughter cried until she passed out. When she woke up, she took the ashes and left." The nurse's eyes were red. "She said the biggest regret of her life was having the name Romano."
My legs gave out. I fell to my knees on the cold, hard floor.
A metallic taste filled my throat. I couldn't swallow it down.
It was me.
I was the murderer.
I didn't just ruin Isabella's life. I had personally killed the only family she had left.
"Aaaargh—"
Like a dying animal, in this hallway that reeked of death, I let out a gut-wrenching, soul-tearing scream.
A mouthful of blood sprayed onto the floor, staining the divorce papers I still held in my hand.
My vision blurred.
The last thing I saw, or thought I saw, was Isabella standing at the end of the hall.
She was watching me with ice-cold eyes.
Then she turned and walked into the darkness.
And vanished completely.