After The Don Left Me To Die I Chose Freedom Chapter 08
Eventually, they found me.
That day, I was sitting by the window of the rehabilitation center, a blanket draped over my knees, soaking in the sun.
The sunlight was warm. The sea breeze was gentle.
When I saw them arrive, I wasn’t surprised.
Adrian hadn’t erased every trace of me.
With the combined reach of the Hale family and the Moretti family, finding me was never going to be difficult—not if they truly wanted to.
When the door was pushed open, Mom was the first to rush in.
The moment she saw me, her eyes went red.
“Emma…”
Dad stood behind her, looking as though he’d aged ten years overnight.
Luca came in last.
He looked at me, his eyes laced with red.
“Emma. We finally found you.”
I closed my book, my expression as calm as if I were looking at strangers.
“What did you come here for?”
Mom’s tears fell instantly.
She walked quickly to me and reached out, wanting to touch me but not daring to.
“I’m sorry, Emma. Mommy was wrong.”
“It was my fault. I should have believed you. I should never have left you alone on that mountain…”
She couldn’t go on. She covered her face and sobbed until she shook.
Dad’s eyes reddened too, his voice rough.
“It was your father who was despicable.”
“When you said you were in pain, I didn’t believe you. When you said you were buried, I called it a tantrum. I should have listened. I should have gone to you.”
“Emma, don’t shut us out. Please.”
Luca’s face was the whitest of all.
He stood two steps away from me, as if he didn’t even have the right to come closer.
“Emma. I know I was wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have doubted you. I shouldn’t have left you alone on North Ridge.”
“I shouldn’t have let Grace manipulate me over and over. I shouldn’t have—”
By this point, the rims of his eyes were a frightening shade of red.
“I truly regret it. Hit me, scream at me—anything. Just don’t shut me out.”
I raised my eyes and looked at him calmly.
“That’s what you should have said when I was begging you that day.”
Luca swayed on his feet, every last trace of color draining from his face.
I turned to my mother.
“When I called you, you were keeping Grace company while she drank soup.”
Mom cried harder.
“That’s not—Emma, I didn’t know at the time—”
“You didn’t know. That doesn’t change the fact that you chose her.”
My tone was light, but it cut like a blade.
“You said I was faking it. You said everything out of my mouth was a lie.”
“Luca, I was truly dying.”
He looked like someone had punched him square in the chest. His whole body staggered half a step back.
“I’m sorry…”
“Emma, I know I was wrong.”
But I only shook my head.
“Too late.”
“It’s really too late.”
The room went quiet, nothing left but the sound of stifled weeping.
They cried like wrecked things, gutted by their own regret.
But inside me, there was no storm. Only stillness.
Some wounds can’t be mended with tears.
Some people don’t deserve forgiveness just because they kneel.
I turned my gaze toward the window.
“What about Grace?”
Mom startled, then quickly wiped her eyes.
“She… she’s been sentenced. Multiple charges, eight years.”
Dad added quietly: “We made sure she paid for what she did to you.”
I smiled faintly.
The truth was, I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t want any further entanglement with any of them.
Later, I moved out of the rehabilitation center.
Adrian helped me find a new job. I went back to clinical research and got involved in medical outreach programs.
I started working again. The nightmares stopped waking me in the dark.
Luca came looking for me many times.
Sometimes with flowers. Sometimes with medicine. Sometimes he just stood below my building in the rain.
I never saw him. Not once.
Eventually, with Adrian’s help, I finalized my divorce from Luca.
Mom came too, carrying the cinnamon rolls I’d loved as a child. She stood outside my door, crying, saying she wanted to make it up to me.
I still didn’t open the door.
It wasn’t that I didn’t feel the ache. It was that my heart had already died.
A person who’s died once doesn’t have much room left for forgiveness.
Later, someone asked me if I hated them.
I thought about it, and all I said was: “I used to.”
“But not anymore. Because I don’t need them anymore.”
I had my own work. My own life.
On weekends, I walked along the shore. In the evenings, I bought myself flowers.
One day, Adrian walked me home.
He asked: “Any regrets?”
I looked at my shadow under the streetlight and smiled.
“None.”
“If I hadn’t gone through all of that, I never would have learned that I can live perfectly well on my own.”
Adrian smiled too.
“And it’s only going to get better.”
I looked up at him, and suddenly even the wind felt gentle.
Yes. It would only get better from here.