Chapter 13: The Hunt Begins

Elena Vitiello POV

Freedom felt strange.

Not exciting.

Not magical.

Strange.

The first morning in San Francisco, I woke up before sunrise.

For several seconds, I didn't know where I was.

The apartment ceiling wasn't familiar.

The room was too quiet.

No guards outside the door.

No security briefings downstairs.

No distant sounds of Moretti business.

Just silence.

Real silence.

Then I remembered.

I had escaped.

The realization settled slowly into my chest.

I was free.

I made coffee in a tiny kitchen that barely fit two people.

The machine rattled loudly.

The smell filled the apartment.

Simple.

Ordinary.

Perfect.

For three years, every meal had been prepared by staff.

Every schedule planned by assistants.

Every movement watched by security.

Now I stood barefoot in an oversized sweater making my own coffee.

And somehow it felt luxurious.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown Number.

I froze.

Then relaxed.

Only three people had this number.

Mia.

Isabella.

Or...

I answered.

"Hello?"

"You sound happy."

Isabella.

I laughed.

"Do I?"

"A little."

"Good."

"That's progress."

I carried my coffee to the window.

"Any news?"

Silence.

"Isabella?"

"He's looking for you."

Of course he was.

"How bad?"

"Elena... he has half of New York searching."

I closed my eyes.

"I expected that."

"No. I don't think you understand."

Her voice sounded uneasy.

"What happened?"

"Three businesses got shut down overnight because someone thought they helped you leave."

"What?"

"Two accountants disappeared for questioning."

"Jesus."

"And Dante hasn't slept."

That caught my attention.

"How do you know?"

"Because Marco looks like he's about to have a nervous breakdown."

A small smile touched my lips.

Poor Marco.

"He'll survive."

"Your husband is losing his mind."

"Ex-husband."

The correction came automatically.

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

"Be careful," Isabella said quietly.

"I will."

After the call ended, I stared out at the city.

People moved through the streets below.

Nobody knew who I was.

Nobody cared.

It was wonderful.

Meanwhile...

New York

Dante Moretti POV

"Still nothing?"

"No, boss."

The answer immediately made Dante angrier.

Three days.

Three days since Elena disappeared.

Three days since he discovered the annulment.

Three days without hearing her voice.

Three days without seeing her face.

Three days of absolute hell.

"Check again."

"We already checked."

"Then check better."

Marco pinched the bridge of his nose.

That was usually a sign he wanted to say something stupid.

"Boss."

"What?"

"You know she's not kidnapped, right?"

The room instantly became dangerous.

"Careful."

"I'm serious."

"Marco."

"Nobody took her."

"I know that."

"She left."

Dante looked away.

Because hearing the words hurt.

She left.

Not because she had to.

Not because someone forced her.

Because she wanted to.

"Find her."

"Why?"

The question shocked the room.

Several soldiers immediately looked terrified.

Nobody questioned Dante.

Ever.

"Excuse me?"

"Why?" Marco asked again.

"What happens when we find her?"

Dante didn't answer.

Because he didn't know.

Bring her home?

Apologize?

Demand answers?

Beg?

The last possibility felt ridiculous.

Dante Moretti didn't beg.

For anything.

Except maybe...

No.

Absolutely not.

"Find her," he repeated.

"Then I'll figure out the rest."

Later that night, Dante returned to the penthouse.

The place felt wrong.

Empty.

Cold.

Lifeless.

Elena had never been loud.

Never demanding.

Never dramatic.

Yet somehow her absence filled every room.

He entered the bedroom.

The closet looked wrong.

The bookshelves looked wrong.

The bathroom looked wrong.

Everything looked wrong.

Because she was gone.

His gaze landed on a small object resting atop her abandoned nightstand.

A notebook.

Thin.

Leather-bound.

He frowned.

Elena never left personal things behind.

Slowly, he picked it up.

The first page contained a date.

Eight years ago.

Long before their marriage.

His pulse accelerated.

He turned the page.

And froze.

"Today Dante Moretti smiled at me."

"It lasted less than two seconds."

"I think it was the best day of my life."

The air left his lungs.

Another page.

"He doesn't know I exist."

"That's okay."

"I know he exists."

Another.

"One day he'll love me."

"I know he will."

Another.

"Even if he never does, I think I'll love him forever."

Dante sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

The notebook trembled in his hands.

Page after page.

Years of devotion.

Years of hope.

Years of loving him.

And then...

The entries changed.

"Today Dante forgot my birthday."

"Again."

Another page.

"I don't think he sees me."

Another.

"Sofia called and he left dinner."

Another.

"I waited until 3 AM."

"He never came home."

Another.

"I am starting to feel tired."

Another.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this."

Dante stopped reading.

Because suddenly he couldn't breathe.

For the first time in years, tears burned behind his eyes.

And somewhere across the country, Elena was learning how to live without him.

While Dante Moretti was finally learning exactly what he had destroyed.