Burned Out of the Moretti Name Chapter 05

Burned Out of the Moretti Name Chapter 05

As Lorenzo walked out of Bianca’s apartment, an image of Sofia at eighteen flashed through his mind.

She had been stubborn then too, but never with him.

She had always known how to steady him, how to soften the edges of his temper, how to make room for his moods without ever asking for much in return.

Only now did he understand how much of that had been love.

He left without looking back.

He would go home, find Sofia, and make this right.

He had neglected her. That was the truth of it. But if she would still have him, he could fix the rest. He

could give her more time, more attention, more of himself.

As for Bianca, he would send her away. Paris. Geneva. Somewhere far enough to restore some distance. Let her study. Let her grow up. If, later on, she still wanted the life he could offer, he could give it to her. If

not, he could make sure she was taken care of.

By the time he had arranged it all in his head, he was already driving through the gates of the estate.

And still, the unease in his chest only deepened.

He pushed open the front door and stepped inside.

“Sofia.”

No answer.

The house was too quiet.

He moved farther in, frowning, and then stopped cold in front of the wall of photographs.

Every picture had been cut in half.

From the earliest one of them together to their wedding portraits to every anniversary after that, only he

remained.

Sofia had been cut cleanly out of every frame.

Something dropped hard inside him.

Lorenzo turned and went straight to the bedroom.

He yanked open the wardrobe.

Empty.

Her clothes, her jewelry, her luggage-everything was gone.

He grabbed his phone and called her.

The line did not even ring.

Her phone was off.

He called again.

And again.

The same mechanical voice answered him every time.

His grip on the phone tightened.

He did not want to believe this. Sofia could not have left without a word. Not after the auction. Not after

telling him she had left him a surprise in the drawer beside their bed.

His eyes went to the nightstand.

There was a box there.

He crossed the room and opened it at once.

There was no surprise inside.

Only her wedding ring, a few photographs cut in half, and the house key.

Lorenzo stared at them, his pulse turning unsteady.

Everything in the box belonged to Sofia.

Everything she had left behind.

Lorenzo stood there without moving, the ring still in his hand.

For the first time that night, what rose in him was not anger, not humiliation, not even disbelief.

It was fear.

A cold, unfamiliar fear that settled low in his chest.

And with it came a memory.

Years ago, before he had fully taken his place in the family, he had already begun handling the sort of

business that left no room for mistakes. After one deal at the docks, he was shot. The wound turned bad

He burned with fever for two straight days, and even the doctors were no longer willing to promise he would pull through.

Sofia never left his room.

She stayed at his bedside the entire time.

She watched the doctors change his dressings. She brought water to his lips when he was too far gone to

ask for it. She wiped the sweat from his skin and sat with one hand wrapped around his, as if letting go

might mean losing him for good.

The staff kept telling her to rest.

She never did.

By the second night, her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hide it. Her face had gone pale

from exhaustion, but she still refused to leave.

Only when his fever finally broke did her body give out.

She had gone nearly two full days without sleep and hardly eaten anything at all. The doctor had just said he was going to live when Sofia’s legs gave way beneath her. She collapsed right there beside the

bed.

When Lorenzo woke properly later, the first thing he heard was that Sofia had stayed with him for two nights and then fainted from exhaustion.

And when the worst had passed and he was strong enough to notice the world again, Sofia was still there.