Farewell, My Don Chapter 14

Farewell, My Don Chapter 14

Dominic stayed in the hospital for three days.

The doctors insisted he stay longer, but he discharged himself against medical advice, refusing pain medication and any form of help.

He returned to wait outside Genevieve’s office on crutches, his arm in a sling.

He was determined. He would not give up. At least not now.

She saw him the next morning when she walked out of the building.

She didn’t stop, didn’t even spare him a glance.

He followed her on his crutches, his legs aching severely, but he didn’t care. If necessary, he would

follow her to the ends of the earth.

He brought her a bouquet of red roses which is her favorite flower, though he had only recently

learned this from her notebook. She took the flowers, glanced at them, and threw them into a trash

can.

“I don’t like roses,” she said, turning to leave.

He knew she was lying.

He knew she loved roses. But he didn’t argue.

He simply picked up the roses, threw them away, and the next day he gave her a necklace–a rare diamond necklace he bought at an auction, which she had seen in a magazine years ago and loved.

She opened the box, looked at it, and handed it back to him.

“I don’t want your gifts,” she said. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Later that day, he heard her colleagues gossiping about him–whispering, mocking him, calling him a “desperate ex.”

“Genevieve said he’s just a stranger who made a mistake,” one of them said. “He deserves it. He

looks like a total mess now.”

He had become a stranger, a mess.

He was once the Don of the Rizzo Family–feared, respected, powerful.

Now, he was a broken–hearted man begging for love from a woman who was indifferent to his life or death.

Just then, his advisor called. “Don,”

His voice was soft, hesitant.

“We found some leads. About the day the Donna miscarried, the fire, and the balcony incident.”

Dominic caught his breath. “Speak.”

“We got the surveillance footage from the estate. It’s a bit blurry, but it’s clear–it was Amara who grabbed the Donna first. She was screaming at her, pulling her hair. The Donna tried to push her away, and Amara fell on purpose. She hit her head on the doorframe and started screaming that the Donna pushed her. The Donna—she was clutching her stomach the whole time. She looked to be in

extreme pain.”

Dominic closed his eyes, his hand gripping the phone so tight it hurt.

“And the fire?”

“The fire department found traces of accelerant in Amara’s guest room. The fire started there–it was arson. Amara said it was an accident, but the evidence says otherwise. And the balcony? We

questioned the staff. One of the waiters saw Amara push the Donna. The Donna grabbed her wrist but let go—as if she didn’t want to pull her down. Amara told you she was trying to pull her back, but that was a lie. She pushed her. She wanted her dead.”

The phone slipped from Dominic’s hand and clattered to the ground.

He stood there, unable to move, as the truth flooded over him, drowning him completely.

Amara.

The woman he loved, the woman he protected, the woman for whom he abandoned Genevieve–she had been deceiving him all along. She manipulated him, used him, and made him hurt the woman

who loved him.

She killed his child. She tried to kill Genevieve. And he had been so blind, so foolish, so obsessed that he couldn’t see any of it.

He picked up the phone, his voice cold and murderous.

“Book me a flight back to New York. Do it now. Bring Amara and the Carter family to me. I want

them alive. At least for now.”

He hung up, turned, and walked toward Genevieve’s apartment on his crutches.

He had to see her.

He had to tell her the truth.

He had to beg for her forgiveness one more time.

Even if she would refuse.

Even if she hated him.

He had to try.

The sun was slowly setting when he reached her apartment building.

He stood before her door, his heart hammering like a drum, then slowly sank to his knees.

His knees hit the cold concrete, pain radiating up his legs, but he didn’t care.

He was the Don of the Rizzo Family—he had never knelt before anyone.

But for Genevieve, he was willing to kneel there forever. He knelt in the middle of the sidewalk, head bowed, body trembling, waiting for her.

An hour later, he heard her footsteps–high heels clicking on the cement, steady and confident.

He looked up and saw her standing there, carrying a small shopping bag, her hair down, wearing a

cozy sweater and jeans.

She stopped when she saw him, her expression unchanged.

“Genevieve,” he choked out, “I know. I know everything. Amara lied. She pushed you. She set the fire. She killed our child. I’m sorry. I was so stupid. I should have believed you. I should have loved you. Please give me a chance to make it up to you. I’ll do anything. Anything.”

She looked down at him, her gaze calm, without a single ripple of emotion.

“Your apology changes nothing, Dominic,” she said. “It cannot bring our child back to life. It cannot erase the pain I suffered for these five years. And it cannot make me love you again.”

“I know,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “I just… I need to atone. Please, let me

atone.”

“The best way to atone,” she said softly but firmly, “is to leave me alone. Leave forever. Don’t contact me. Don’t follow me. Don’t even think of me. That is the only thing you can do for me. It’s the only way I can move on with my life.”

She paused, then added: “Thank you for finding the truth. At least now I know my child didn’t sacrifice in vain. At least now I know I wasn’t crazy. But that’s all. Now, please leave.”

She turned, swiped her key card, and walked into the building.

The door closed behind her, leaving Dominic alone kneeling on the cold sidewalk, watching the

elevator lights rise until they stopped at her floor.

Total darkness. He stayed there for hours until his legs went numb, until the cold seeped into his

bones.

Then, he slowly stood up, took his crutches, and left.

His heart was empty, his soul shattered.

But he knew she was right.

The only way out was to leave her.

But he couldn’t do it. He could never do it.