Isabella’s POV
"Lorenzo Romano is hereby stripped of the title of Don and is declared Excommunicado."
The inquisitor's gavel fell with a heavy thud.

It was the sound of his social death.
In this world, Excommunicado meant he lost all protection. Any member of any family could kill him without consequence. He was now a rat to be hunted.
The old Don sat on the dais, clutching his chest, his face gray. He didn't look at Lorenzo once. With a trembling hand, he announced to the room, "I have no son."
In that moment, the light in Lorenzo's eyes died completely.
He was dragged out by a couple of enforcers.
Tossed like a dead dog into the rain outside the courthouse.

His suit was torn, his face covered in mud and blood.
The once-untouchable king of New York was now garbage that everyone despised.
I walked out of the courthouse and opened a black umbrella.
The rain was heavy, washing over this filthy city.

A pair of black high heels stopped in front of Lorenzo.
He struggled to lift his head, looking at me through the curtain of rain.
"Bella..."
He reached out, trying to touch the hem of my dress. His hand was covered in cuts and grime.
But just as he was about to touch me, he pulled back.
He was afraid of making me dirty.
"Go..." he said weakly. "Don't worry about me... Just go. As far as you can..."
I looked at him, my expression blank.
"It's over, Lorenzo."
My voice was quiet, but it was colder than the rain.
"You've lost everything. Your family, your honor, your father... and me."
"This is your punishment."
There was no forgiveness. No anger.
Just complete and utter indifference.
"Isabella..." he was still whispering. "I'm sorry..."
"Save your apologies. Tell them to Nonna in hell."
I turned and got into the car without looking back.
As the door closed, I saw him on the ground, still staring in my direction.
Like a loyal dog abandoned by its master.
But I knew I would never look back.
The car's tires rolled through a puddle, splashing mud onto his face.
In the rearview mirror, I watched his figure get smaller and smaller, until he finally disappeared into the rain.
Weeks later, a whisper reached me through the grapevine. He was still alive, but barely. A ghost haunting the city's gutters, coughing up blood. The doctors gave him until winter.
I felt nothing.
He had used his life to scrub a stain off my name. The debt was paid. That was all.