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Roses never fade Novel Cover

Roses never fade

For seven years, I was his eyes. But the moment he regained his sight, he decided to marry someone else. Seven years of devotion couldn't buy his heart. I gave him back his dignity. Now that he was restored as the Godfather of the New York Mafia, he laughed with others, degrading me to the status of a mere "mistress." He thought I didn't understand Italian, but I heard him loud and clear: he was going to marry his first love. He arrogantly believed I would always love him, willing to stay in his penthouse like a caged bird. But he was wrong. I boarded a one-way flight to Australia. Dante, I don't want you anymore. By the time he returned home, he would have lost me forever. But a sore loser refuses to concede. Even if he had to burn the world to the ground, he would search for me and beg for my forgiveness.
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Chapter 6

Elena Rossi's POV:

The penthouse was eerily quiet.

I bandaged my arm using the first-aid kit I found under the sink. The cut on my cheek wasn't deep, but it would be enough to leave a mark.

Good.

I wanted a scar. I wanted something permanent to remember the night I finally woke up.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

It was Sofia.

Sofia: Darling, so sorry about your dress. But honestly, white doesn't suit you. It's a bride's color. You looked like a stain standing next to Dante. Have fun bonding with the puppy. Or did it run away too?

It was followed by a photo.

A selfie. She was in the passenger seat of a Maybach—Dante's car.

Dante was driving. His hand rested possessively on her thigh.

I didn't cry.

I put the phone down and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The rain had finally stopped. It was 2:00 AM.

I pulled on a plain black hoodie and slipped out of the penthouse. I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the Vitiello estate.

The guards at the gate the guards at the gate recognized me. They assumed I was there to see Marco or to grab something from my old servant's quarters.

They waved me through without even a second glance.

I walked across the damp grass to the old peach tree in the back garden.

Seven years ago, on Dante's eighteenth birthday, we had buried a time capsule under its roots. He wasn't the Don then; he was just a boy.

I dropped to my knees in the mud.

I didn't use a shovel; I dug with my bare hands.

The earth was cold and heavy.

My fingernails snapped against the hard dirt. The fresh bandages on my arm soaked through, black mud mixing with bright blood.

I didn't care.

My fingers brushed against metal.

I pulled out the rusted iron box and pried the lid open. Inside lay two folded slips of paper and a tarnished silver locket.

I unfolded my paper first.

I will serve and love Dante Vitiello until the end of my days. I will be his light.

I stared at those words.

I had written them in blood. Literally. I had pricked my finger to seal the vow.

What a foolish, naive girl I had been.

Next, I unfolded Dante's paper.

I want to see again. I want the Family to be strong. I want Sofia to be safe.

Sofia.

Even then, even when she ignored him, even when I sat beside him, listening to his dreams, his wish was for her safety.

I wasn't in his wishes.

I took my paper and tore it into shreds.

I walked over to the drainage grate near the fountain and let the pieces fall. I watched the dark water carry them away, down into the sewer where they belonged.

Then, I picked up the locket.

He had given it to me the night his sight returned. He called it a promise.

I walked back to the tree and dug a new hole, deeper this time. I threw the silver chain into the mud.

I scooped the dirt back over it and patted it down until the ground looked undisturbed.

I wasn't just burying a necklace.

I was burying Elena Rossi.

My phone vibrated again.

Dante: Are you okay? Luca said you refused the car.

I stared at the screen. His name no longer made my heart race.

I replied.

Me: I'm fine. I don't need you.

Then I turned and walked out of the garden, leaving my heart to rot beneath the peach tree.

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