The Godfather’s Forsaken Rose Chapter 12
Dominic drew a slow breath and answered.
Sophia’s soft voice came through, perfectly fragile, perfectly dependent.
“Dominic, my head still hurts a little. The wound is aching too. I’m scared being alone at St. Mary’s. Can you come stay with me?”
In the past, that voice would have made him drop everything and go to her immediately.
This time, as he looked through the airport windows toward the flight lights disappearing into the night, a faint annoyance passed through him.
It was so slight even he did not examine it.
After a few seconds, he said, “I’ll come.”
When he arrived at Sophia’s VIP room at St. Mary’s, she was leaning against the pillows, her face pale. The moment she saw him, she gave him a gentle, delighted smile.
Dominic sat at the edge of the bed.
Sophia nestled against him and spoke softly, but his mind was elsewhere.
She sensed his silence and asked carefully, “Dominic, are you worried about Bella? My father told me she left the country. Her temper has always been intense. Maybe leaving will help her cool off. Once she figures things out, perhaps she’ll come back.”
“Don’t mention her.”
Dominic cut her off. His tone was flat enough that no emotion could be heard.
Sophia froze, then nodded obediently. A faint smile hid in her eyes.
What she did not know was that after she fell asleep, Dominic took out his phone again.
His finger hovered over the screen before he opened a chat with his deputy and typed:
Keep track of Isabella’s situation overseas. Send me a weekly report.
Just before he pressed send, he stopped.
What was he doing?
Why should he care about a woman he had already ended things with?
Self-disgust rose in him without warning.
With one motion, he deleted the message, as if erasing that moment of weakness could erase the disorder inside him.
To outsiders, his life after getting back together with Sophia was flawless.
They were a perfect match. Both came from powerful families. Sophia was gentle, considerate, and obedient in all the right ways.
Dominic fulfilled every duty expected of a boyfriend. He ate with her, escorted her to events, took her to social gatherings, and gave her the respect of his name.
Only Dominic knew how unbearably empty that perfect life felt.
When he stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows at the family headquarters reviewing documents, he would suddenly remember Isabella sneaking into his office when he was busiest, wrapping her arms around him from behind, breathing warm mischief against his ear, destroying his focus on purpose.
In the end, he would always press her against the cold glass and punish her until she cried and begged.
On his private Gulfstream, he would find himself glancing toward the small bathroom and remembering how boldly she had provoked him there. Afterward, her legs would be weak, and he would wrap her in a blanket and carry her out while she muttered stubborn complaints against his chest.
Those memories came like ghosts, always at the wrong time.
They made him restless.
He told himself it was only habit.
After all, habits built over three years needed time to fade.
He took Sophia to the private restaurant that used to require reservations months in advance.
The dishes were still exquisite. The setting was still elegant.
Sophia ate in careful little bites, occasionally commenting that something was too high in calories and she had to watch her figure.
Dominic ate silently.
For no reason, he thought of Isabella, greedy as a cat, always stealing food from his plate when he wasn’t paying attention. She loved spicy food even though she could barely handle it. Tears would spring to her eyes, and she would fan her tongue, but she would still insist it tasted good.
Then she would steal his glass and drink from it to cool the heat, declaring with perfect confidence, “What’s yours is mine.”
Those meals had been chaotic.
Noisy.
Full of life.
The meal in front of him was so quiet that only the faint clink of cutlery remained.
It was dull enough to suffocate him.