The Don Prayed for Me, Then Betrayed Me Chapter 06

Lorenzo never went back to the wedding reception.

He returned straight to the Vitale townhouse. When he pushed the front door open, the house was suffocatingly silent.

By the entryway, all the shoes I’d worn daily were gone.

Inside the walk-in closet, only empty hangers remained where my wardrobe had once hung.

Even the pill bottles that sat on my nightstand had been cleared away.

It hit him all at once then—I’d left without a single trace.

He wandered to the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door.

It was still stocked full of Mara’s coconut water and low-sugar yogurt, her favorite green grapes lined up neatly on the shelf.

A memory crashed over him: the night before, I’d stood frozen in front of this fridge for ages without uttering a word.

Back then, he’d brushed it off as simple exhaustion.

Now he understood.

I’d been staring at proof of how completely this home had turned into Mara’s space.

Lorenzo stumbled back to the living room. A voice recorder lay out on the coffee table.

He pressed play. Voices from the VIP private lounge spilled out clear as day.

“The official Donna title belongs to Elena. Every elite household on the East Coast recognizes her as Mrs. Vitale. She’ll never lose that legal marriage certificate. But Mara will have the chapel blessing up in the mountains, and a formal entry in the Vitale family ledger for our bloodline. This is just me making amends to her. Nothing will ever take Elena’s place.”

“I’ll stay by Elena’s side for the majority of the year. Her health’s delicate, and she relies heavily on me emotionally. I’ll only take one month out of every twelve to spend with Mara and our boy. The other eleven months, I’m all Elena’s. She’ll never uncover a thing about our son.”

By the end of the recording, all color drained entirely from Lorenzo’s face.

I’d heard everything.

He’d spoken plainly in front of a room full of elite family leaders, carving out the trajectory of my life like I was nothing more than an afterthought.

He’d framed his betrayal as a generous gift to Mara, acting as though I ought to be grateful just to keep those eleven months of his half-hearted presence.

Lorenzo clutched his chest hard, a searing tear splitting pain ripping through him like he’d been sliced open with a blade.

He bolted for the back stairs in a blind panic.

Beside the dumpster in the rear alley, my cardboard boxes had been tipped over. Cashmere scarves, a tiny wooden rocking horse, the rosary bracelet—all scattered across grimy concrete.

Lorenzo dropped to his knees, gathering each item one by one.

His hands shook violently when he picked up the rosary he’d brought back from the abbey for me.

He knew the truth clearer than anyone: that pilgrimage to the snow peaks hadn’t only been spent kneeling and praying for me. He’d held Mara in those same blizzards too.

Tears splattered onto the dirty pavement halfway through sorting the mess.

He replayed the look on my face the night I’d told him “Go ahead.”

It had been unnervingly calm, completely hollow and devoid of emotion. That quiet hadn’t been forgiveness.

It had been complete, irrevocable surrender—he meant nothing to me anymore.

His assistant’s call cut through his agony while he still knelt beside the dumpster.

“Don Vitale. Mrs. Vitale left a letter before boarding her flight.”

Lorenzo’s head shot up. “Read it to me.”

There was a long beat of silence on the line before the assistant’s voice dropped to a quiet murmur.

“Lorenzo Vitale, you said I take up eleven months of your year. I’m giving those eleven months back to you now. Whoever you choose to spend your time with from this moment on has nothing to do with me.”

Lorenzo squeezed the crumpled rosary so tight his knuckles whitened.

He doubled over, breaking down into ragged, uncontrollable sobs.