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Runaway Nurse: The Mafia King's Remorse Novel Cover

Runaway Nurse: The Mafia King's Remorse

For seven years, I served as the eyes for Dante Vitiello, the blind Capo of New York. I pulled him back from the edge of madness, tending to his wounds and warming his bed when everyone else had given up on him. But the moment his vision returned, the years of devotion turned to ash. In a single phone call, he decided to marry Sofia Moretti for territory, dismissing me as just "the maid's daughter" and a "comfort" he intended to keep as a mistress. He forced me to watch him court her. At a gala, when a chaotic accident caused a tower of champagne glasses to shatter, Dante threw his body over Sofia to protect her. He left me standing there, bleeding from the glass shards, while he carried her away like she was porcelain. He didn't even look back at the woman who had saved his life. I realized then that I had worshipped a broken god. I had given him my dignity, only for him to treat me like a disposable bandage now that he was whole. He arrogantly believed I would stay in the penthouse, grateful for his scraps. So, while he was out celebrating his engagement, I met with his mother. I signed the severance agreement for fifty million dollars. I packed my bags, wiped my phone, and boarded a one-way flight to Australia. By the time Dante came home to an empty bed, realized his mistake, and began tearing the city apart to find me, I was already a ghost.
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Chapter 12

Dante Vitiello POV:

The closet doors were thrown wide open.

I stared at the empty space where her clothes used to be.

The red dress I had bought her was gone.

The simple grey coats she always wore were gone.

The wire hangers were bare, skeletons dancing in the draft from the air conditioner.

It was a sound I would hear in my nightmares for years. *Clink. Clink. Clink.*

I ripped the drawers open.

Empty.

No socks. No underwear. No t-shirts.

I stormed into the bathroom.

Her toothbrush was gone. Her face cream. The cheap comb she refused to replace.

All of it. Gone.

I ran back to the bedroom and checked the nightstand.

Her charger was missing.

I pulled out my phone with trembling hands and dialed her number.

*The number you have dialed is no longer in service.*

My blood ran cold. I dialed it again.

*The number you have dialed...*

I hurled the phone across the room. It smashed against the far wall, cracking the screen into a spiderweb of glass.

I didn't care.

I grabbed the landline and called Marco.

"Find her," I ordered, my voice raw.

"Dante? What—"

"Find Elena. She's gone. Check the airports. Check the train stations. Check the hospitals."

"She left you?" Marco asked, confusion heavy in his tone.

"Find her!" I screamed.

I slammed the phone down so hard the plastic housing cracked.

I stood in the center of the room, vibrating with rage.

My chest felt like it was being crushed by a hydraulic press. I couldn't breathe.

I fell to my knees.

I put my head in my hands, fingers digging into my scalp.

*Think, Dante. Think.*

When did she decide this?

Last night?

No.

She was calm last night. She was... cold.

*I don't need you.*

That text.

I thought she was just being difficult. I thought she was jealous of the dog.

I stood up and stalked to the living room.

Maria was still standing there, shaking.

"Did she say anything?" I asked. My voice was dangerously quiet.

"No, sir. She just... she packed while you were sleeping. She left when you went to Miss Sofia's."

She waited.

She had waited for me to leave.

She knew I would go to Sofia.

She had counted on it.

A memory flashed in my mind like a lightning strike.

The car ride.

\The phone call with Marco.

I had spoken in Italian. I had told Marco about the marriage contract. I had told him I was going to trick Elena with a fake wedding.

I looked at Maria, a horrifying realization dawning on me.

"Maria," I said. "How long has Elena been studying Italian?"

Maria looked confused.

"Italian, sir? Since... since you were blind."

The air left my lungs in a rush.

"She used to read to you," Maria whispered. "She learned so she could read your letters. The ones from your uncle in Sicily."

I staggered back as if struck physically.

She knew.

She had understood every word I said in the car.

She had sat next to me, listening to me sell her out, listening to me plan to make her a whore in the eyes of the law while I married Sofia.

And she didn't say a word.

She just got out of the car.

She let me drive away.

And then she started planning her escape.

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