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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 8

I had returned for one reason only: my passport.

It was locked in the safe at the Estate, tucked away in the small, modest room I used to occupy near the kitchen.

I had assumed the house would be empty at this hour.

I was wrong.

I slipped through the side entrance, shaking the heavy rain from my coat, shivering as the damp cold clung to my skin.

Laughter drifted down the hallway, light and carefree.

It was coming from the music room.

I should have turned around right then.

But my feet moved on their own, drawn by a force I couldn't resist.

I walked to the open double doors and froze.

Dante sat at the grand piano, his posture rigid yet elegant.

He was playing *Liebestraum*. A dream of love.

It was the song he had written when he was blind, composed in the darkness that had once consumed him.

He used to play it for me at 3:00 AM, in the quiet hours when the pain in his eyes became unbearable.

He had told me, once, that the melody was the very sound of my voice.

Now, he was playing it for her.

Sofia sat on the bench beside him, too close.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, her fingers trailing playfully over the keys, pretending to play along in a mockery of intimacy.

She looked up, her gaze landing on me standing in the doorway.

Her eyes lit up with pure malice.

"Oh, look, Dante," she cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "The help is back."

Dante's hands faltered on the keys.

The music died abruptly.

He turned.

His eyes found mine across the room.

"Elena," he said, his voice low and guarded. "What are you doing here?"

"Getting my things," I replied.

My voice sounded hollow, like wind whistling through an abandoned house.

"Don't be rude, Dante," Sofia scolded lightly, placing a possessive hand on his chest. "Play the rest. I love this song. You wrote it for me, didn't you?"

Dante looked at me.

He knew.

He knew that I knew.

But he didn't correct her.

"Yeah," he said, his dark eyes never leaving mine, cold and unyielding. "I wrote it for you, Sofia."

Something inside me snapped.

A final, vital cord severed.

Sofia smiled, victorious.

She leaned in.

She pressed her lips to his.

It wasn't a quick peck; it was a claim of ownership.

Dante didn't push her away.

He didn't pull back.

He simply closed his eyes and let her kiss him.

I stood there and watched them.

I watched the man I had bathed, the man I had fed, the man I had saved from the brink of despair, kiss the woman who had left him to rot.

I didn't scream.

I simply turned around.

I walked out the front door.

It was pouring now, the rain transforming into a thunderstorm.

I didn't run for cover.

I walked straight into the deluge.

The water mixed with the tears on my face, making them indistinguishable.

I was free.

I had nothing left to lose, because he had just taken the last thing I truly owned.

My memories.

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