His Merciless Redemption novel Chapter 163

Chapter 163

Dominic’s POV

The line went dead.

For a long moment, I didn’t move.

The phone was still pressed against my ear, Isabella’s last word echoing through the silence.

Goodbye, Dominic.

Not angry. Not loud.

Just final.

Slowly, I lowered the phone.

The penthouse felt too large, too quiet.

A strange ringing filled my ears, like the world had muted everything except the memory of her voice.

I stared down at the screen.

Call ended.

Nine minutes.

Nine minutes was all it had taken to dismantle something we had spent months quietly rebuilding.

I leaned forward, elbows braced against my knees, phone dangling loosely in my hand.

She hadn’t screamed.

That was what I had expected.

Anger. Accusations.Tears.Something loud enough to justify what I had done.

But Isabella hadn’t given me that.

She had given me disappointment instead.

And somehow that was worse, far worse.

I dragged a hand over my face, exhaling slowly.

I knew with certainty that she had meant it when she said she would walk away. There had been no threat in her voice. No desperation.

Just certainty.

Her voice had carried the calm dignity of someone who had already accepted the loss. And that realization hit me like a physical blow.

I knew she was going to leave.

From the moment I agreed to the alliance, I had understood the risk.

Isabella had always been clear about one thing.

She would never be a second choice. Never.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, I had imagined the confrontation differently.

Heat. Rage. A fight. Something I could push against. Something I could endure.

Instead, she had drawn a quiet line and stepped away from me. And it terrified me.

I stood abruptly, pacing toward the windows. The city stretched beneath the glass, restless and alive.

None of it mattered. All I could hear was her voice.

You deprived me of the same, she had said.

My jaw tightened.

She was right.

The truth landed in my chest with brutal clarity.

It hadn’t been strategy that stopped me from telling her, it hadn’t been timing, or protection like I’d told myself.

It wasn’t until she was accusing me of not being man enough to say it to her face before she left that I realised it had been cowardice, plain and simple.

I hadn’t had the strength to look her in the eye and break her. To stand there in that hallway, where she looked at me with trust and hope, and tell her that everything we had been quietly rebuilding was about to be destroyed.

So instead, I had said goodbye silentl, inside my own head.

While she stood in front of me, unaware.

I closed my eyes briefly.

Coward.

And my cowardice had only made it worse.

She hadn’t even had the dignity of hearing it from me.

She had learned from a headline, from the world.

Not from the man who claimed to love her.

My chest tightened painfully.

I had deprived her of closure because I had been too weak to watch her break.

And now I had broken her anyway, slowly, publicly.

I rested my hand against the glass. It was cold. Steady.

Unlike the chaos in my chest.

She said goodbye.

The words repeated over and over in my head.

She said goodbye.

I had spent five years believing she was dead. Buried. Gone forever.

When she returned, it had felt like something impossible had been given back to me.

A second chance.

And now I had just destroyed it with my own hands.

My phone vibrated on the desk behind me. I ignored it. It buzzed again.

Eduardo.

Of course.

The world doesn’t pause for heartbreak.

I turned back, picking up the phone. “Yes.”

“Council confirmations are complete,” Eduardo said. “Press office is asking when to release the date of the engagement and other details.”

I looked down at the engagement draft on my desk.

Russo-Moretti Alliance.

Public announcement scheduled. Political consolidation. The machine was already moving. It didn’t care about personal casualties.

“Tomorrow morning,” I said.

There was a pause. “Understood.”

The call ended.

Tomorrow.

The moment that headline went global, there would be no reversing it. No quiet undoing. No pretending this was temporary. It would be official. Permanent.

I sat down heavily in the chair.

Isa would see it.

Mateo would see it one day.

The entire world would see it.

And still, I reached the same conclusion I had reached a hundred times already.

If I didn’t secure this alliance, if I didn’t stabilize the structure before dismantling my inner circle, the mole would continue feeding information.

The Vitellis would escalate.

Next time, it wouldn’t be a near miss at the school. Next time, I might not arrive five seconds early. The image of Mateo being pulled towards that car flashed through my mind again.

My stomach twisted violently.

No.

I will not lose him. I will not bury my son.

If this marriage buys time, if it strengthens the walls long enough for me to find the traitor inside my house, then I will endure whatever it costs.

Even if the cost is Isabella.

I leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling.

She said goodbye.

The words echoed again, softer now.

But beneath the devastation, another realization crept in. Her disappointment had hurt more than anger ever could have. Anger meant she still wanted something from me. Disappointment meant she expected nothing

anymore.

And that was far more dangerous.

Because Isabella Russo didn’t stay where she wasn’t respected.

If she walked away, she wouldn’t look back. Maybe not ever.

My chest tightened again.

I forced the thought down.

One problem at a time.

Secure the alliance. Find the mole. End the Vitellis’ leverage.

Then, maybe there would still be something left to salvage.

But deep down, a colder voice whispered the truth.

You may have just lost her forever.

The penthouse was silent again.

And for the first time since the call ended, the weight of what I had done settled fully over me.

I had chosen survival.

And in doing so, I had broken the only woman I had ever truly loved.

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