The Last Goodbye

PART 2 — THE DAUGHTER OF VINCENT ROSETTI

By six o’clock the next morning, I was standing inside my father’s mansion overlooking the Nevada mountains.

The moment I entered the grand hall, Vincent Rosetti came toward me.

He was sixty-one, dressed in a charcoal suit, with silver hair and the same cold eyes that had made powerful men tremble for decades.

But when he looked at me, his expression softened.

“My little girl.”

He pulled me into his arms.

For the first time in three years, I allowed myself to cry.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I whispered. “I thought I could make my marriage work.”

He kissed the top of my head.

“You don’t have to apologize for loving someone.”

Then his expression turned serious.

“Does Diego know who you are?”

I shook my head.

“Not yet.”

My father nodded toward Marcus, his right-hand man, who had accompanied us from the penthouse.

“Then perhaps it’s time he learned.”

I looked up.

“Daddy, I don’t want a war. I just want my marriage to be over.”

“That’s your decision, sweetheart. But Diego has already threatened our family. I won’t allow him to mistake your kindness for weakness.”

Meanwhile, across Las Vegas, Diego woke up in his penthouse with Sophia lying beside him.

He reached for his phone and frowned.

There were no missed calls from me.

No messages.

No apologies.

That was unusual.

He called my number.

It went straight to voicemail.

He tried again.

Nothing.

“Where the hell is Kora?” he muttered.

Sophia sat up, pulling the blanket around herself.

“Maybe she’s finally learning not to interrupt your business.”

Diego glanced at her.

“She knows better than to disappear without telling me.”

He walked into the bedroom and stopped.

My wedding ring was sitting on the bedside table.

Beside it was a handwritten note.

Diego,

You once told me you gave me a life I could never have dreamed of. You were right about one thing. I did dream of a life with you.

But I never dreamed of being someone you could humiliate and replace.

I won’t be waiting when you come home.

Goodbye.

Diego read it twice.

Then he called Marcus.

“Find my wife. I want her back before noon.”

Marcus hesitated.

“Boss, there’s something you need to know.”

“What?”

“Your wife left with three Rosetti security vehicles last night.”

Diego went silent.

“Rosetti?”

“Yes, sir. Vincent Rosetti’s men.”

For the first time that morning, Diego looked genuinely confused.

“What does my wife have to do with Vincent Rosetti?”

Marcus swallowed.

“Everything, boss.”

He placed a photograph on Diego’s desk.

It showed me standing beside Vincent Rosetti at a charity gala fifteen years earlier.

Diego stared at the picture.

Then Marcus delivered the words that would change everything.

“Your wife isn’t Kora Martinez. Her real name is Kora Rosetti. She’s Vincent Rosetti’s only daughter and the legal heir to his entire empire.”

Diego’s face lost its color.

Before he could respond, his phone rang.

The caller ID displayed my father’s name.

He answered.

“Rosetti.”

Vincent’s deep voice came through.

“Good morning, Moretti.”

“What is this about my wife?”

“My daughter is home. And she won’t be returning to your penthouse.”

Diego stood abruptly.

“She belongs with me.”

Vincent laughed coldly.

“You had three years to understand what she meant to you. Instead, you treated her like an ornament.”

“Put Kora on the phone.”

“No.”

A pause followed.

Then Vincent added:

“One more thing, Moretti. You wanted to destroy the Rosetti family. Now you’ve discovered you married into it.”

The call ended.

And for the first time in his life, Diego Moretti had no idea what to do next.