The Five Years He Missed Chapter 01

The Five Years He Missed Chapter 01

Elena’s POV

Five years after my divorce, I ran into my exhusband at a flower shop.

Dominic Gambino walked in wearing a black suit, tall and broad, with a handful of guards trailing him. He tossed his picked flowers onto the counter, his blue eyes cold as winter ice.

My fingers stilled. Without a flicker of expression, I tugged my mask higher and kept my head down, wrapping the bouquet. “That’ll be two hundred dollars, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Add some chamomile. My wife likes it.”

I did as he asked and handed him the flowers without meeting his eyes—but his oppressive presence never let up.

Just as I was about to look up, he said, “Chamomile used to be your favorite.”

“Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You think a mask hides you from me?” Dominic’s mouth curved into a smirk. “Five years. You don’t look like you’re doing well.”

My gaze dropped to my frayed sleeve and calloused palms. Selfmockery burned in my chest.

No. I wasn’t.

Ten years ago, fresh out of the police academy, I married Dominic Gambino. I went from being a fallen officer’s orphan to a mafia don’s wife—never imagining I’d end up like this.

Dominic kept going. “Can you even take care of Luca like this?”

I wiped the expression from my face. “That’s none of your business, Mr. Gambino.”

Silence stretched between us. Finally, he turned and left, his guards falling in behind him.

My coworker Marie Dupont exhaled like she’d been holding her breath, then leaned in. “Elena, that’s the CEO of Gambino Group, right? You know him? I’ve heard his family’s got serious reach…”

I nodded.

“Oh my God—he’s a legend!” Marie’s eyes lit up. “He fell out with his whole family over his first wife—she was a cop, too. The tabloids ran a photo of him after a family flogging; his back was a mess. But he still got his wedding of the century.”

“So why’d they divorce? Were the rumors fake? Was he not that devoted?”

“Not all of it was fake.” I looked past her, into the past. “Dominic loved her. He took her to Alaska to outrun a blizzard. They spent sunsets on old trams in Lisbon. He promised her forever under a lighthouse on some nameless island. He stayed up late bingewatching shows with her, ate street food, traveled cheap. When she was sick, he didn’t sleep—he nearly tore the city apart finding her the best doctor. They had a son named Luca. Dominic swore he’d always protect him, let him be whatever he wanted.”

Marie’s jaw dropped. “You…”

I said flatly, “I’m his exwife, Elena Rossi.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. Then, frowning, she asked, “What about the boy?”

I didn’t answer. I just took off my mask.

Marie stared at my scarred, ravaged face—and the words died in her throat.

This was what Dominic left me.

She didn’t ask again.

That evening, I bought a cake from the bakery next door and walked to the nearest public cemetery. Snow fell harder, wind cutting like glass. I knelt in front of the headstone, wiped it clean, set the cake down, and whispered, “Happy birthday, Luca. Mommy’s here.”