The Don Prayed for Me, Then Betrayed Me Chapter 09

I looked down at him kneeling at my feet.

Lorenzo had always carried such unshakable pride. Within every East Coast old-money circle, everyone bowed and addressed him respectfully as Don Vitale.

Now he knelt on the linoleum floor of a tiny foreign café, sobbing messily, stripped of all his power and dignity.

Once upon a time, I would’ve broken instantly.

I would’ve knelt beside him, wiped his tears away, wrapped my arms around him and whispered that I forgave him.

But all I felt now was bone-deep exhaustion.

Belated regret could never bring back the baby we’d lost. It could never erase five years of constant deception.

Lorenzo reached out, desperate to catch the hem of my dress.

“Elena, come home with me, please. I’ve dealt with Mara completely. I’ve cut the Rossi family off completely. They’ll never touch our shipping lines again. The trust funds under Mara’s name have been frozen by our legal team; she’ll never set foot inside a single old-money charity event again. Our lawyers recovered every dollar she stole under false pretenses. She will pay fully for what she’s done.”

“I will never see her again for the rest of my life. I’ll return to the Snowbound Mountain Abbey alone. I’ll crawl every inch of that pilgrim’s road up to the chapel steps on my knees, praying penance for the child we lost. Just give me one more chance to make this right…”

Watching him, a memory resurfaced from years prior.

When I’d woken up from that near-fatal car crash, he’d knelt beside my hospital bed exactly like this.

He’d whispered to me then, “Elena, I begged God to give you back to me. From

this day forward, I will protect you with my entire life.”

I’d believed every single word back then. Believed so fiercely I’d refused to doubt even his most obvious lies.

But hearing those same pleas now, my heart remained completely unmoved.

I set down the floral shears in my hands. “Lorenzo. If those mountain statues hold any divine power, they won’t want to listen to another one of your vows ever again.”

His tears flowed harder than before. “Elena…”

I cut him off before he could beg further. “Do you know what I thought about in that operating room, right before the anesthesia pulled me under?”

He froze rigidly.

I spoke softly, without a trace of malice. “I thought how tragic it was to lose our baby. But even sadder than that—how deeply, wholeheartedly I once loved you.”

It landed on him like a brutal slap across the face.

I stepped back one pace, putting space between us. “Go back to New York. I will never forgive you. And I will never love you again.”

The café’s wind chime jingled once more as the shop owner stepped out from the back room.

He spotted Lorenzo on his knees and shot me a concerned glance. “Do you need me to escort him out?”

I shook my head gently. “No need. He’ll leave shortly.”

Lorenzo lifted his head to gaze at me, the last faint spark of hope vanishing entirely from his eyes.

He stayed kneeling for a long stretch of time, until his security guards stepped forward to pull him unsteadily to his feet and lead him outside.

Before crossing the threshold, he glanced back at me one final time, as if trying

to burn my current image permanently into his memory.

But I’d already lowered my head, returning to trimming bouquets of fresh blooms.

Bright winter light filtered through the shop windows, washing over everything with a crisp, unclouded clarity.

I heard rumors later that Lorenzo made another trip to the Snowbound Mountain Abbey.

He knelt in penance for a full month.

This time, he didn’t pray for my survival. He begged the saints for even a single chance to cross paths with me once more.

I never went back and never saw him again.

When spring arrived, tiny white wildflowers bloomed all along the sidewalk outside the café.

Standing bathed in warm sunlight, my thoughts drifted briefly to the child I’d lost.

A dull ache still tugged at my chest, but it no longer choked me with overwhelming despair.

I brushed a light hand over my stomach, then whispered a quiet promise to myself. “Elena. Keep moving forward.”

No more pilgrimages to snow-capped mountain shrines to plead for mercy.

No more desperate prayers to stone statues for someone else’s love.

At long last, I’d learned how to give myself back to me.