The Last Moretti Wife

Part 2 — The Wife Who Disappeared

Vincent stared at me as if I had just committed an unforgivable crime.

“Elena, stop this nonsense.”

He reached for the velvet box in my hands, but I stepped backward.

“Don’t touch my son.”

His hand stopped in midair.

For the first time, something resembling discomfort crossed his face.

“He’s my son too.”

I looked at him quietly.

“Was he?”

Vincent frowned.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that when Noah was burning with fever, I begged you to come home. When the doctors said his condition was critical, I called you forty-three times. When our son took his last breath, I was holding his hand.”

My voice trembled, but I continued.

“You were watching the northern lights with Sofia.”

Vincent’s jaw tightened.

“I already told you. I couldn’t leave her alone. She was having a difficult time.”

I almost smiled.

“Our five-year-old son was dying, Vincent. But your adopted sister needed company.”

“Enough!”

His voice thundered through the chapel.

Sofia appeared behind him, dressed in a white cashmere coat.

“Elena, please don’t make Vincent feel guilty. He has suffered too.”

I turned toward her.

“Have you ever suffered because of Noah?”

She blinked.

“What?”

“Have you ever spent one night worrying about him? Have you ever held him when he cried? Have you ever loved him as anything other than an inconvenience?”

Sofia’s eyes immediately filled with tears.

“Vincent, she’s insulting me!”

He stepped between us.

“Apologize to Sofia.”

I stared at him.

Then I laughed.

It was a small, broken sound.

“You’re asking a dying woman to apologize to the woman who helped destroy her family.”

Vincent’s expression changed.

“What did you say?”

Before I could answer, Evelyn stepped forward.

“She has cancer, Vincent.”

Silence fell.

He turned toward his mother.

“What?”

“Terminal brain cancer. Thirty days, according to her doctor.”

Vincent looked back at me.

For several seconds, he didn’t speak.

Then his expression hardened.

“Is this why you’re doing this? Are you using your illness to make me feel guilty?”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

Even now, he thought everything was about him.

“No, Vincent. I’m leaving because I finally understand that I wasted my entire life loving someone who never loved me.”

I placed the divorce papers on the altar.

“Take care of your freedom. I’ll take care of our son.”

Then I walked past him.

He didn’t stop me.

Perhaps he thought I would return by morning.

He had always believed that.

That evening, Evelyn accompanied me to the cemetery.

Snow covered Noah’s little grave.

I knelt beside it, placing a small wooden airplane on the marble.

Noah had loved airplanes.

He used to tell me that one day he would fly to the moon and bring me back a star.

“Mommy is going to find you soon, sweetheart.”

I gently touched his photograph.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

Evelyn stood behind me, silently wiping her eyes.

When I finally stood, she handed me a small envelope.

“Your father left something for you before he died.”

I stared at her.

“My father?”

She nodded.

“Your parents weren’t ordinary people, Elena. Your father was one of the founding partners of the Moretti family’s international shipping empire. He transferred his entire private estate into a trust under your name before he died.”

I opened the envelope.

Inside was a document bearing my father’s signature.

And a letter.

My beloved Elena,

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If you’re reading this, I hope you’ve finally found the courage to live for yourself.

The Morettis may have powerful names, but never forget that your future belongs to you.

Everything I built is yours.

Never allow anyone to make you feel that you are worth less than the life you deserve.

I pressed the letter against my chest.

For the first time in months, I cried.

Not because Vincent had abandoned me.

But because my father had believed in me even when I had stopped believing in myself.

Evelyn quietly said, “There is more. Your inheritance includes a controlling interest in several companies. Vincent doesn’t know because your father placed everything under an independent trust.”

I looked at her.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

She lowered her eyes.

“Because I allowed my son to destroy you. I watched him choose Sofia again and again. I told myself that keeping the family together was more important than protecting you.”

Her voice cracked.

“I was wrong.”

I folded the letter carefully.

“Then help me leave.”

She nodded.

“I’ll arrange everything.”

Three days later, I left New York.

No farewell.

No announcement.

No dramatic confrontation.

Just a private jet, Noah’s ashes, my father’s letter, and a suitcase.

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My new home was a small coastal estate in Maine, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

It belonged to my family before the Morettis ever entered my life.

I hired a private nurse named Margaret, who treated me like a daughter rather than a dying patient.

I planted white roses outside Noah’s bedroom.

And every evening, I sat beside the window, watching the ocean.

Meanwhile, Vincent returned to his ordinary life.

He didn’t call for two days.

On the third day, he sent a message.

Come home. We need to discuss the divorce.

I didn’t answer.

On the fourth day, he called.

I didn’t answer.

On the fifth day, he ordered his assistant to contact Evelyn.

“Where is Elena?”

Evelyn replied coldly.

“She’s where you can no longer hurt her.”

Vincent laughed.

“Mother, stop encouraging this ridiculous behavior. Tell her to come home.”

“She isn’t coming home, Vincent.”

“Then I’ll bring her back myself.”

Evelyn’s voice became icy.

“You had seven days to be her husband. You chose not to.”

She hung up.

That evening, Vincent discovered that I had emptied my closet, withdrawn from the family accounts, and transferred my personal belongings.

He also discovered something else.

My divorce had been finalized.

I was no longer Elena Moretti.

I was Elena Bennett.

And for the first time in five years, the Moretti family had no legal claim over me.

Two weeks later, Sofia organized a lavish charity gala at the Grand Crescent Hotel.

Vincent attended with her.

She wore an expensive diamond necklace and held his arm as cameras flashed.

A journalist asked about his divorce.

Vincent smiled.

“My marriage was a mistake. Elena and I simply wanted different things.”

Sofia lowered her eyes modestly.

Then Vincent added:

“Some people are never satisfied, no matter how much you give them.”

The guests laughed politely.

But across the city, Evelyn watched the broadcast with disgust.

She picked up her phone and sent Vincent one final message.

You should be careful what you say about a woman you never bothered to understand.

He ignored it.

He had no idea that the woman he had dismissed was preparing to reclaim everything her father had left behind.

And he certainly had no idea that his own family’s empire was about to discover who truly owned a substantial part of it.