The Godfather’s Forsaken Rose Chapter 29
After that, I stood.
Without looking at him again, I turned and walked toward the door.
“Bella…”
Dominic used the last of his strength to call my name, his voice weak and broken with despair.
My steps paused at the door.
But I did not look back.
I opened it.
Outside, Adrian stood waiting, his gaze gentle and steady.
I walked to him, and he naturally took my hand, holding it tightly.
Together, we left the room without turning back and disappeared down the corridor.
Dominic lay in the hospital bed, staring at the empty doorway and the place where I had vanished.
Tears finally spilled from his eyes, sliding into his pillow.
He knew this time, he had truly lost me forever.
He had lost the red rose that had once lit his gray life like fire, only to be pushed away and extinguished by his own hands.
Time passed.
Another year came and went.
My career climbed to new heights.
I took on an epic film by a top international director, playing a woman who held on to faith and love in the middle of war. The performance shook audiences and critics alike.
At the award ceremony, regarded as the highest honor in film, the moment the Best Actress winner was announced as “Isabella Moretti,” the entire hall erupted.
In a pale-gold gown symbolizing hope and rebirth, I rose calmly and embraced Adrian, whose eyes were red with emotion. Then I walked with measured grace toward the stage watched by the world.
Under the spotlight, I held the trophy in my hands, my smile gentle and strong.
I gave my acceptance speech in fluent English, thanking the crew, my family, and my friends.
At the end, I looked toward the man in the audience whose eyes had never left me.
“Finally, I want to dedicate this honor to my fiancé, Adrian Castellano. You made me believe love could be this beautiful. You gave me the courage to become a better version of myself. Mr. Castellano, please take care of me for the rest of our lives.”
The camera cut to Adrian.
He had already stood, tears of pride and happiness in his eyes, and he made an “I love you” gesture toward me onstage.
The hall filled with applause and cheers.
Across the live broadcast, the image of us looking at each other with love traveled to every corner of the world.
A week later, we held a quiet, warm wedding at a Sicilian manor.
Only our closest family and friends were invited.
Sunlight. Lawn. Flowers. White veil.
I wore a simple, elegant wedding dress made by a designer friend, walking down the petal-covered path on Adrian’s arm. My face held a bright, genuine happiness that came from the heart.
Adrian looked at me with love so deep it could not be hidden.
Our wedding invitations were also sent to a few people from the past.
In New York, at the top-floor office of the Morello family, Dominic stood before the enormous windows and looked down at the city still glittering beneath him.
He was thinner than he had been a year ago. Quieter too. A loneliness that could not be erased lingered between his brows.
On the desk behind him lay an exquisite wedding invitation, its gilded lettering painful to look at.
On the wedding day, he did not go.
Instead, he went alone to the office where he and I had once tangled together countless times.
The setting sun washed the room in warm orange.
For a moment, the air seemed to still hold the faintest trace of my scent.
He stood there silently, like a statue.
His phone lit up.
A message from an unknown number.
No words.
Only a photograph.
In it, I wore a white wedding dress and stood in brilliant sunlight. The breeze lifted my veil. I smiled at the camera, happy and at peace. There was no longer any shadow of the past in my eyes, only hope and contentment for the future.
A few seconds later, another message arrived.
Dominic, I forgive you.
And I forgive myself.
Take care.
Dominic stared at the photo and the words.
It felt as if something struck his heart hard. After the sharp pain, a strange sense of release slowly rose.
With trembling fingers, he touched my smiling face on the screen. Tears finally spilled uncontrollably, falling onto the glass and blurring that dazzling smile.
He cried and laughed at the same time, like a madman.
At last, he pressed the phone tightly to his chest, as if by doing so he could still feel some trace of my warmth.
He knew he had lost his red rose forever.
The proud, brilliant rose that had once bloomed wildly in his life, and that he had destroyed with his own hands.
Perhaps this was the best ending he deserved.
To spend the rest of his life in loneliness and longing, atoning for a debt he could never repay.
And I, the red rose that had weathered storms and been trampled into mud, finally broke free of every shackle.
In soil that truly belonged to me, full of love and sunlight, I bloomed into my brightest, most moving self.
After all the years and all the miles, we each found our peace.