LOGINThird Person's POVAfter returning to Newmont, Lorenzo did something he should have done a long time ago.He went to see a psychologist.It wasn't because he was depressed, but because he wanted to figure out one thing—how had he become like that? How could one person be so cruel to another?The psychologist was an old man in his 60s, with gray hair and gold-rimmed glasses. He spoke slowly and deliberately."Do you think you ever loved Sofia?" the psychologist asked.Lorenzo thought for a long time."I thought I did," he finally said. "But now, I think I only loved an illusion—a perfect illusion I could never have.""What about Elena?"Lorenzo was silent for even longer."I don't know if it was love," he said softly. "I only know that after she left, half my world collapsed. I know I hurt her, and I know I don't deserve her. But I just can't… let go.""That's not love," the psychologist said.Lorenzo's head snapped up.The psychologist looked at him, his gaze gentle and ca
Third Person's POVA week later, Lorenzo stood on a street in a small city in southern Spania. It was quieter here than the town in Italor. The air was thick with the scent of orange blossoms, and the streets were lined with orange trees, their golden fruit hanging heavy on the branches.Lorenzo followed the address and found the flower shop.The shop wasn't big, but it was decorated with care. Several buckets of fresh flowers stood by the entrance, and there were delicate bouquets displayed at the window.The name of the shop was written on the sign in cursive—Benica. It was the name of Elena's mother.Lorenzo stood across the street, looking at the flower shop. His heart was beating so fast that he thought it might burst out of his chest.And then, he saw Elena.She walked out of the shop, holding a large bouquet of daisies and smiling as she spoke to a male customer.Elena was wearing a floral print dress, and her hair—noticeably longer than it had been in Newmont—was loos
Third Person's POVAnother six months passed, with Lorenzo's life gradually settling into a monotonous calm. He went to work, came home, ate, and slept. Like a soulless machine, he mechanically repeated each day.He didn't socialize, didn't go out for entertainment, and didn't contact anyone from his past. His only friend was Antonio, the only person who had stayed by his side after he lost everything.One evening, when Antonio came to visit, he brought with him a bottle of whiskey. The moment Lorenzo saw the bottle, his expression changed."Take it away," he said coldly.Antonio paused, then understood. He quietly put the bottle back in his bag. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking."Lorenzo shook his head, signaling that it was fine.The two sat in silence for a long time in the cramped living room, drinking coffee.Finally, Antonio spoke up, saying, "I heard something about Elena."Lorenzo stopped breathing for a second."She opened her own flower shop," Antonio said. "In a small cit
Third Person's POVThree months passed after that. Lorenzo found a job at a small law firm in Newmont, where he worked as a legal assistant.When Antonio heard the news, he almost thought he had misheard."Don Moretti, you're joking, right?""I'm not joking." Lorenzo's voice was calm. "I need a job."What he didn't say was that he needed a legitimate job because all of his illegal assets had been seized.The former Don of the Moretti family now lived on a monthly salary of three thousand dollars.He rented a small apartment in Crown District and took the subway to work every day. He would eat deli sandwiches for lunch. On weekends, he went to the supermarket to buy things on sale.The sycophants who once trailed behind him now pretended not to know him when they ran into him on the street.Occasionally, a few of the bolder ones would deliberately mention Elena's name in front of him."I heard Elena is doing well in Eldoria and has found a new boyfriend."Someone clicked thei
Third Person's POVLorenzo decided to go to Italor—not to find Elena, because he knew he wouldn't be able to.It was to go to the town where Elena's mother had lived, to the very place where the stories from her childhood first began. He wanted to be closer to Elena, even if it was just to breathe the same air and stand on the same soil.The day Lorenzo left, it was raining in Newmont. He stood in front of the airport's floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the gray sky. Scenes from those years played over and over in his mind.He remembered their wedding day. Elena had stood in the church in her white wedding dress, her face lacking the joy a bride should have. Instead, there was only a resigned calm.Back then, he thought Elena was faking it. He thought she was gloating about the fact that she had finally married into the Moretti family and climbed the social ladder.But now, he understood—that wasn't a look of calm. It was a look of despair.It was the despair of a young woman p
Third Person's POVA month later, all of the Moretti family's assets in Newmont had been liquidated. Fiora had been arrested and was facing 13 charges.Lorenzo wasn't prosecuted, but his name had become a joke in the city. The once-powerful Mafia Don was now left with nothing.He moved out of that villa, the one where Elena had been drenched with ice water and beaten by bodyguards.Before leaving, he stood at the entrance and looked at it for a long time.In the yard, a potted plant that Elena had secretly bought—and one he later threw away—had somehow sprouted new shoots from the soil.As Lorenzo crouched down and touched the tender green leaves with his fingers, his eyes turned red-rimmed.He recalled how Elena had carefully carried that potted plant into the living room and placed it on the windowsill. She then stood a few steps away, tilting her head to admire it.When he saw it, he had coldly called it "tacky". That same day, he had ordered a maid to throw it out.He hadn







