The Last Goodbye

Part 2: The Wife He Couldn’t Find

Adrian Moretti had never chased anyone in his life.

People came to him. Businessmen waited outside his office. Politicians answered his calls. Even his enemies knew better than to make him wait.

But that morning, he was the one desperately trying to reach someone.

His wife.

“Find her,” he ordered his security chief. “I want her exact location in Toronto.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And don’t contact her directly. I want to speak to her myself.”

Within an hour, Adrian discovered something that made his stomach tighten.

Claire hadn’t booked a return ticket.

She hadn’t checked into any of the hotels owned by the Moretti Group.

And she hadn’t used any of their credit cards.

She had disappeared completely.

“Sir,” his assistant said cautiously, “there’s something else.”

Adrian looked up.

“What?”

“Mrs. Moretti submitted a resignation from her position at the Moretti Foundation three days ago. The paperwork was finalized yesterday.”

He frowned.

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“What position?”

“She was managing the foundation’s children’s hospital project. She also transferred all her personal donations to an independent charity.”

Adrian stared at the document.

He hadn’t even known she had made those arrangements.

For three years, Claire had quietly worked beside his family, helping hospitals, funding shelters, and supporting children whose parents couldn’t afford medical treatment.

He had always assumed she was simply enjoying the privileges of being Mrs. Moretti.

Apparently, he had never bothered to understand her.

His phone rang again.

Sofia.

This time, he answered.

“Adrian, are you coming to the office? I need you to review the documents for the new hotel.”

“Not today.”

There was a pause.

“Is something wrong?”

“My wife is gone.”

Sofia was silent for a moment.

Then she spoke softly.

“I’m sorry. Perhaps she just needs time to calm down.”

Adrian’s expression changed.

“Don’t tell me what my wife needs.”

“I’m only trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

He ended the call.

For the first time, he noticed how familiar Sofia’s voice had become.

And how rarely he had listened to Claire’s.

Meanwhile, in Toronto, I was sitting beside a large window in a small apartment overlooking a quiet street.

My knee still hurt.

The doctor had confirmed that nothing was broken, but the bruising was severe.

I had spent the first two days sleeping, unpacking, and learning how to breathe without constantly wondering when Adrian would come home.

On the third morning, I received a call from an unfamiliar number.

“Hello?”

“Claire?”

My heart stopped.

It was Margaret.

“I’m sorry to bother you, sweetheart,” she said. “I just wanted to know if you’re all right.”

I smiled faintly.

“I’m fine, Margaret.”

“Mr. Moretti has been looking everywhere for you.”

I closed my eyes.

“Please don’t tell him where I am.”

There was a long silence.

Then Margaret whispered, “I won’t.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Claire, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Do you really intend never to come back?”

I looked at my grandmother’s photograph sitting on the table.

“Yes,” I answered quietly. “I think I’ve finally stayed away long enough.”

After hanging up, I opened my laptop.

I had an old dream that I had abandoned when I married Adrian.

Opening a small art and restoration studio.

My grandmother had taught me how to restore antique porcelain when I was a little girl. I had loved every minute of it.

For years, I had collected broken pieces and repaired them with patience and gold lacquer.

Perhaps that was why the shattered vase had hurt so much.

It reminded me of everything I had spent my marriage trying to repair.

This time, I wanted to build something that belonged entirely to me.

Two days later, Adrian arrived in Toronto.

He went straight to the apartment address his investigators had uncovered.

But when he knocked, nobody answered.

A building manager eventually informed him that Claire had rented the apartment under a different name.

“She checked out yesterday morning,” the man explained.

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

“Where did she go?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

Adrian stood motionless in the hallway.

His security chief approached carefully.

“Should we expand the search?”

Adrian looked at the empty apartment.

Then he noticed something inside the open doorway.

A small envelope had been left on the kitchen counter.

It contained his wedding ring photograph, taken on their third anniversary.

On the back, Claire had written four words.

I loved you once.

Adrian stared at the handwriting.

For the first time in his life, the powerful Mafia boss had absolutely nothing to say.

That evening, he returned to Chicago.

Sofia was waiting in his office.

She wore the cream-colored dress he had once complimented and stood beside his desk with two cups of coffee.

“You look exhausted,” she said.

Adrian ignored the coffee.

“Did you know Claire was planning to leave?”

Sofia’s expression changed.

“Why would I know that?”

“Because you were standing beside me when I pushed her.”

Sofia lowered her eyes.

“I never wanted that to happen.”

Adrian studied her face.

“Tell me something, Sofia. Why were you standing so close to me that night?”

She looked surprised.

“I’m your secretary.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Adrian picked up the office telephone.

“Have Human Resources prepare your transfer.”

Sofia’s eyes widened.

“What?”

“You’ll be transferred to the New York office. Effective immediately.”

“Adrian, you can’t be serious!”

He looked at her coldly.

“My wife left because I failed to respect her. I won’t make the same mistake by pretending nothing happened.”

And for the first time, Sofia realized that Claire’s departure had changed something she could no longer control.