The 33rd Divorce from the Don Chapter 05

The 33rd Divorce from the Don Chapter 05

Massimo’s POV

The moment the call ended, I froze.

Screen showed “Call Ended.” I hit redial immediately, again and again. Straight to voicemail every time.

“FUCK!” I hurled my phone at the wall. Screen shattered like a spiderweb.

Claudia sat up in bed, wrapped in sheets: “Massimo? What’s wrong? Middle of the night-

I ignored her, grabbed my coat and bolted.

“Elise’s place,” I barked at Marco waiting downstairs. “NOW!”

The car tore through the night. I pulled out my backup phone, fingers shaking as I dialed Elise.

Three rings. She picked up.

“Hello?” Elise’s voice was ice-cold. ‘Massimo. Calling in the middle of the night-need Adela to clean up your mess again?”

“Where is she?” I bit out.

Two seconds of silence. Then she laughed. Pure mockery in that sound: ‘Massimo, finally remembered to look for her?”

“Cut the SHIT! Is she at your place or not?!”

‘Nope, Elise said lightly. “She’s gone. Never coming back. Check the time-her plane’s probably taking off right about now.”

My heart lurched: ‘What? Where the fuck did she go?!”

“Why would I tell YOU? Elise laughed coldly. ‘Massimo, you’ll never see her again. She’s done with you-done with your lies, your selfishness, done with

your precious Claudia.”

Click. She hung up.

“The airport!” I roared at Marco. ‘JFK! DRIVE!”

The Rolls Royce screamed down the highway. I frantically dialed Adela’s number over and over-couldn’t connect. She’d blocked everything.

‘DAMN IT! I punched the window.

“Boss, Marco said carefully, ‘should we have tech track her location?”

“Track her phone! NOW!”

Three minutes later, the call came back. Head of tech, voice shaking: “Boss, her phone’s off. All tracking devices disabled. No credit card or bank activity.

Even airport security footage’s been wiped.”

Everything went cold.

“Find her flight! Every flight leaving New York tonight!” I roared. “Use all the family’s connections! Bribe airport staff! I don’t care what it takes! Thirty minutes-I want to know which plane she’s on!”

‘Yes, boss!”

I slumped back in my seat, breathing hard. Neon lights streaked past the window.

I suddenly remembered her strange behavior these past weeks-initiating the divorce, taking off her ring, quitting all her family positions. It was all

planned.

My chest suddenly ached like someone was crushing it.

“FASTER!” I yelled at Marco. “Go FASTER!”

1 AM. Private aviation terminal.

I burst into the lobby. The night manager jumped, spilled coffee everywhere.

“Find her flight!” I grabbed his collar, eyes bloodshot. “Every departure tonight!”

“Sir, customer privacy-

I’m the HEAD of the Salvatore family!” I roared. “You don’t find anything in three minutes, this airport won’t operate tomorrow!”

The manager’s hands shook as he opened his computer, fingers flying across the keyboard: “Found it! Tonight at 11 PM, private jet, destination-

He stopped. Face went white.

“What the FUCK happened?!”

“The record’s been wiped,’ he looked up. All information deleted. Destination, passenger list-everything’s gone.

I released him, staggered back, almost couldn’t stand.

She really left.

The next two weeks, I threw everything at finding her-tech department, intelligence network, contacts in Europe.

Nothing.

Adela had vanished.

During the day I mechanically handled family business, mind blank. At night I’d sit alone in my study drinking. Whiskey, glass after glass, until my stomach burned, until I could finally pass out.

But every time I fell asleep, I’d dream about her.

She’d be wearing a white nightgown, smiling at me: “Massimo, you’re home?”

I’d try to hold her, but she’d dissolve like smoke.

“Adela! Don’t go!”

Then I’d wake up. Empty room. Just me.

Day fourteen, late night. I stumbled back to the estate.

Pushed open the bedroom door. Caught a glimpse of a figure on the balcony-white silk nightgown, slender silhouette, could’ve been Adela in the

moonlight.