All Chapters of Goodbye, Mr. Wrong: The Heiress Returns: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

Desmond’s POV“Desmond! Desmond!”Sebastian’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts, dragging me back into the present like a sharp yank on a leash.“Yeah,” I said, blinking. “I’m here.”There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, the kind that carried judgment. “What took you so long to reply?” he asked. From his tone alone, I could tell he was already annoyed.“I was busy with something,” I lied smoothly. The words came too easily.“Busy doing what?” he pressed.“Does it matter?” I shot back.He sighed, long and loud. “Sooo…” he dragged the word out, clearly waiting for me to say something first.“So what, Sebastian?” I asked. “Say whatever you have to say?”There was another pause, shorter this time. “Your father,” he said carefully.I scoffed. “Block him or something,” I replied, too nonchalant for the weight of what I was saying. Like I wasn’t talking about the man who controlled half my life without even trying.Sebastian burst out laughing. “Desmond, to what? Get myself

Desmond’s POVSebastian’s voice hummed through the speaker, a constant anchor in the storm of my thoughts. “You’ve got to draw the line somewhere, Desmond. You can’t keep bending for him and still expect your own conscience to survive.”“I know,” I muttered, my fingers drumming against the desk. “But every step I take, it feels like he’s already ten moves ahead.”“He’s always ahead,” Sebastian said bluntly. “That’s why you need to decide what matters most before he decides for you.”I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to breathe through the knot in my chest. My father’s orders weren’t new. They never changed. But today… today something felt different. More urgent. More personal.My phone buzzed on the desk. A notification from Instagram. I ignored it at first, assuming it was just noise, another feed update to distract me from real decisions.But then I glanced down, and my blood ran cold.A photo. Three little faces grinning at the camera, balloons in the background, cake smeared

Sienna’s POVThe door clicked shut behind me, soft and careful, like everything else I did lately. The children were finally asleep—exhaustion winning over excitement at last. Maya’s arms were wrapped around her doll, Milo’s truck tucked under his chin, Max sprawled sideways like he owned the bed.They had waited.That thought followed me down the hallway, heavy and relentless.Desmond was in the living room when I stepped out, standing near the windows with his back to me, phone in his hand but forgotten. The city lights reflected off the glass, outlining him in sharp lines and shadows. He turned when he heard my footsteps.For a moment, neither of us spoke.The silence stretched, tight and uncomfortable, humming with everything I’d been holding back since the afternoon.“They waited for you,” I said finally.His brows pulled together. “Sienna—”“No,” I cut in, my voice sharper than I intended. “Let me finish.”He stilled.“They kept asking when you’d arrive. Every five minutes. Maya

Desmond’s POVGuilt was a strange thing.It didn’t announce itself. It didn’t arrive loudly or all at once. It crept in quietly, settling somewhere between my ribs, heavy and persistent, like it had been waiting for the right moment to surface.The drive back to the mansion was silent except for the low hum of the engine and the city rushing past us in streaks of light. Sebastian sat in the passenger seat, one elbow resting against the door, eyes fixed on the road ahead like he was giving me space on purpose.I hated that he knew me well enough to do that.“She’s serious,” I said eventually, breaking the silence.Sebastian glanced at me. “About leaving?”“About everything,” I replied. “The plan. The boundaries. Taking the kids and walking away once it’s done.”He nodded slowly. “She’s always been honest with you. Brutally so. Except what you actually want to hear.”“That’s not what this is about,” I muttered.“Then what is it about?”I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “I don’t

The call came before dawn, cutting through my sleep like a blade.I stared at my phone for a long second, the screen glowing insistently on the bedside table, my father’s name flashing like a warning. He never called this early unless it mattered. Or unless something was about to go very wrong.“Desmond,” he said the moment I answered, his voice brisk, controlled. Too controlled. “I need to see you. Immediately.”I sat up, the sheets slipping down my waist, my chest already tight. “Is everything okay?”A pause. Just a breath too long. “We’ll talk when you get here. I’m in Italy. My estate outside Milan.”The line went dead before I could ask another question.I stayed there for a while, phone still pressed to my ear, listening to nothing. The silence felt heavy, oppressive, like it was pressing down on my ribs. I swung my legs off the bed and rubbed my face with both hands.Italy.Of all places.My first instinct was to call Sienna. The thought of her face—sleep-soft, eyes still heavy