The Don's Favorite lover Vanished (by Melissa Z) novel Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

“I’m sorry.”

Those three simple words pierced through me like a dagger, twisting deep into my heart.

I faltered, my hand instinctively grasping the doorframe for support, as if it could shield me from the reality crashing down around me.

It wasn’t the sorrow of losing Alessandro that gripped me.

No, it was the haunting truth that an innocent man lay dead, a victim of the sordid battle I had waged.

With heavy steps, I turned back toward Vincenzo.

There he was, still on his knees, his expression frozen in a state of utter disbelief, a mask of shock that seemed to drain the color from his face.

He hadn’t seen this coming. He hadn’t wished for any of this chaos.

“Are you happy now?” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, the words tasting bitter like ash on my tongue.

His eyes lifted to meet mine, his lips quivering, struggling to form the words that eluded him.

“You wanted me back, right?” I continued, each syllable feeling like a stone being thrown into the abyss of our shattered lives. “You wanted to obliterate the new life I had painstakingly built?”

“I… I didn’t want him to die…” he stammered, shaking his head in frantic denial, desperation etched across his features.

“But he’s dead because of you!” The fragile control I had maintained for two long years shattered in an instant. A primal scream, raw and unrestrained, erupted from my throat, filled with pure, unfiltered rage. “You and your twisted obsession! You killed him!”

With trembling hands, I raised the Beretta M9 once more, the cold steel now aimed directly at his heart.

“Now,” I said, locking my gaze with his, where pain and regret swirled like a storm, my voice quivering with emotion. “I’m putting an end to all of this.”

He remained still, a statue of despair.

Kneeling there, he opened his eyes wide, a strange, broken smile creeping across his lips.

“Do it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “End it. I deserve it.”

He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable bullet.

My finger hovered over the trigger, a single movement away from obliterating everything—my anguish, my hatred, my tumultuous past.

I studied him, the face I had adored for a decade and loathed for the last two years.

I caught sight of the double-headed eagle tattoo, a faint, dark silhouette peeking out from beneath his blood-stained shirt.

In that moment, I saw not just a man, but a decade’s worth of blood, tears, betrayals, and heartache.

And then Alessandro’s gentle, apologetic face flashed before my eyes.

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