The Don Lost His Little Orphan Chapter 05

The Don Lost His Little Orphan Chapter 05

Nico’s POV 

I found out Sienna was gone on the fifth day. 

Those five days, I’d been in New Jersey handling a dispute, 

first at a warehouse, then at a dock. Some dock foremen 

thought they could hold Moretti’s cargo and negotiate terms. 

When I dealt with the last one, it was already evening of the 

fifth day. 

As the car pulled into the estate, Luca came up behind me. 

He walked fast but kept his distance. “Don, Sienna, she…” 

I didn’t stop. I tugged at my tie, which smelled like smoke. My voice was cold. “What now? Not enough punishment? Is she making trouble again?” 

Luca was quiet for a second. “No.” 

He swallowed. “She’s gone.” 

I stopped walking. 

The staff in the hall all lowered their heads, barely breathing. 

I turned to Luca. “What did you say?” 

Luca looked down, unable to meet my eyes. “The maid said she hasn’t been in her room for five days. Her things are gone 

too.” 

“Gone?” I laughed a little. But the smile died on my lips. 

I turned and walked fast toward her little room. 

It was at the back of the estate. Small, no light, the window 

looking out at neatly trimmed but lifeless hedges. 

I’d never thought anything of it before. 

Now, standing at the door, it looked painfully narrow. 

I kicked the door open. 

The room was cold and empty. The closet was open. Her few 

cheap clothes were gone. 

The old suitcase was gone. The desk was bare. The bed was 

made. 

She’d left without a word, without taking a single thing that 

belonged to the Moretti estate. 

My breath caught. “Find her.” 

Luca hesitated. “Don, New York is big…” 

I slammed my hand down on the desk, knocking a picture 

frame to the floor. Glass shattered everywhere. 

Luca fell silent. 

I looked at him. “Search Queens. Brooklyn. The Bronx. Just 

find her.” 

“Yes, Don.” Luca backed out. 

Seven years ago, I’d pulled her out of the ruins at East Harbor. 

She’d been frozen solid, her face gray with dust, but her hand 

had gripped my sleeve like it was her last hope. 

For seven years, she’d been here. Like a shadow. 

I thought she’d always be here. 

She was too good. So good that I’d almost forgotten that even 

shadows can disappear. 

I bent down and picked up the frame. The glass was broken, 

but the photo was still there. 

A family portrait my grandmother had ordered taken. 

Sienna stood at the edge, wearing a faded dress, her shoulders hunched like she was afraid of taking up too much space. 

My fingers tightened. 

Broken glass cut into my palm. Blood dripped between my 

fingers. 

I didn’t let go. 

“Sienna.” 

She actually dared to leave. 

“You think you can run from me?”