Farewell, My Don Chapter 01

Farewell, My Don Chapter 01

Genevieve’s POV

After the miscarriage, I became exactly the kind of puppet wife Don Dominic Rizzo wanted.

I no longer babbled to him about the trivialities of my day, nor did I frantically call him when he stayed out all night.

Even when I was framed and taken to the police station, needing bail, I lied and claimed I had no relatives, quietly staying through seven days of detention.

On the seventh night, as I walked out of the police station, a black Maybach screeched to a halt in front of me.

The driver, Mark, rounded the front of the car to open the door, and Dominic stepped out, dressed in a bespoke black suit.

He was tall, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, exuding an overwhelming aura.

He strode toward me, his brow furrowed: “Genevieve, someone actually dared to touch you. Why didn’t you call me?”

I stared at him, my voice cold: “I called. Was your phone even on?”

……

Seven days ago, an elderly woman collapsed in front of my car before I had even started the engine.

I got out to help, but she grabbed my arm and screamed: “You hit me! This young woman hit me and tried to run!”

The surveillance footage proved my innocence, but according to protocol, bail had to be paid before I could leave.

The Consigliere only takes orders from the Don.

I claimed to have no family, but the police found my marital information in the system and placed ninety-nine calls to him in a row.

Every single one went straight to voicemail.

Dominic’s eyes flickered:

“Amara had severe abdominal pain last night, so I took her to the hospital. She’s sensitive to noise, so I turned off my phone.”

He paused, lowering his voice, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I didn’t expect you to come anyway. Just take care of your own business.”

The air suddenly froze.

Dominic stared at me for a moment, then suddenly gripped my wrist.

His hand was scalding hot, his grip incredibly tight.

I winced in pain.

“Why aren’t you angry?”

I found it absurd.

“Why should I be angry?”

“You have your reasons, and I understand them. There’s no need for me to be angry.”

“Genevieve…”

“I’m tired and I want to go home.” I pulled my hand back, bypassed him, and sat in the back seat.

Dominic’s hand remained suspended in the air, his gaze falling on my somewhat thin figure, his expression darkening.

A few seconds later, he got in as well.

We sat together in the back, but it felt as though a galaxy lay between us.

From the corner of my eye, I could see his gaze lingering on me, more focused than it had ever been before.

“Are you still throwing a tantrum over what happened before?” He finally spoke.

I turned to him, my tone calm: “No, it’s all in the past.”

“Dominic,” I interrupted him, “what do you want from me? To cling to you like I used to? Or to be like I am now—quiet, not making a scene, giving you enough freedom?”

Dominic fell silent.

After a long while, he said, “I just feel like you’ve changed.”

My gaze drifted to the streetscape flashing past the window.

Had I changed?

Perhaps.

Loving someone, and not loving someone, can turn you into two completely different people.

“I…” Dominic began to speak, but was interrupted by a specific ringtone.

It was Amara.

“Dominic, where are you? I’m at the mall and I’ve bought so many things, I can’t carry them all. Come pick me up, okay?”

Dominic glanced at me.

I remained staring out the window, showing no reaction at all.

His voice suddenly turned irritable.

“Amara, you’re an adult. Stop being so dependent on me. There is nothing between us anymore.”

“But you’ve spoiled me for so many years, I’m used to it!” She sounded entitled, as if it were only natural. “You never used to refuse me.”

“Before was before.” Dominic’s voice turned cold. “You were my girlfriend then, but now I’m married.”

“Married?” Amara scoffed. “Do you really have her in your heart? Dominic, stop lying to yourself. If you don’t come, I’ll find another man to help me; plenty would be willing.”

Dominic gripped his phone tightly.

“Wait for me.” He practically spat out those words through clenched teeth before hanging up.

He took a deep breath and turned to me: “Genevieve, I—”

“I’ll take a taxi back.” I had already pushed the car door open. “Go pick her up.”

“Genevieve!” He got out to chase me, grabbing my arm. “There’s really nothing between me and her. But we grew up together, and our two families are in an alliance. I can’t just cut ties completely.”

“I know,” I nodded. “I understand.”

“You go back first, I’ll be home later…”

Before he could finish, I had already hailed a taxi and climbed inside.

His words were drowned out by the engine.

In the rearview mirror, I watched his figure shrink until it disappeared.

My phone rang.

It was HR from my company.

“Ms.Voss, your application for overseas assignment has been approved,” a cheerful voice came from the other end. “Congratulations, you will be transferred to the European headquarters. This is a wonderful opportunity. It’s just… won’t your husband mind? This kind of indefinite separation…”

I looked at the flickering neon lights outside the window and said softly:

“I don’t have a husband. I submitted my divorce application the same day I applied for the transfer. As soon as the judge signs, I’m gone.”