My Mafia Husband Regretted Everything But I Left Chapter 05
The livestream camera was still pointed at Dante.
He didn’t answer.
The funeral-home employee called again.
“Mr. Dante Marchetti?”
Dante finally moved.
“That’s me.”
His voice was so hoarse I could barely hear it.
The employee took a contact log and a copy of the death certificate from his folder.
“Anna Sinclair listed you as her secondary emergency contact.”
“The hospital tried to reach you several times last night, but your line was repeatedly unavailable.”
Dante took the papers.
Time of death.
Resuscitation record.
Transfer recommendation.
Page after page settled into his hands.
The last document was a restriction report from the private bank that handled accounts under the Marchetti Family Office.
7:12 p.m.: first attempt to secure the $180,000 transfer guarantee—declined.
7:45 p.m.: second authorization request—declined.
8:03 p.m.: the receiving hospital notified St. Michael’s again that it could not confirm the transfer until insurance approval or the financial guarantee was in place.
At the bottom of the restriction authorization was one signature.
Dante Marchetti.
He looked up.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
I met his eyes.
“I called you twenty-six times.”
“Sienna said you were trying to pressure me into transferring money.”
“So you didn’t answer a single call.”
His lips parted, but nothing came out.
Sienna lunged toward the livestream setup and shut it off.
“Dante, this is a misunderstanding.”
“When I called the nurses’ station, they wouldn’t tell me anything. I thought her mother had just been admitted for observation.”
Ezra’s voice was cold.
“Miss Ross knew more than that.”
He pulled out his phone and played an audio recording.
It was a retrieved call between Sienna and the private-bank risk officer assigned to the Marchetti Family Office accounts.
Sienna’s voice came through clearly.
“Don Marchetti’s instruction is that Selene’s restrictions are not to be lifted under any circumstances.”
“Especially not for high-emotion scenarios involving medical bills, emergencies, or urgent hospital transfers.”
“If she succeeds once, she’ll use the same tactic every time.”
Dante snapped his head toward her.
“Why did you expand my order?”
Sienna went pale.
“You told me to handle it.”
“I told you to restrict her accounts for one night.”
“You never said what time the restriction should end.”
“You were standing beside me when she called.”
“You heard her say the transfer couldn’t wait.”
Sienna took a step back.
“She uses urgency all the time. That’s her favorite tactic.”
Dante grabbed her wrist.
“When, exactly, has she ever lied to me about someone’s life?”
The hall went dead silent.
I took the copy of my mother’s death certificate and her medical records from his hands.
“Does any of this matter now?”
That was the sentence he had used on me for years.
The damage was already done.
The recording was already online.
The account restrictions were already in place.
As long as something couldn’t be undone, he believed responsibility could simply be skipped.
Dante’s grip slowly loosened.
“Selene. I didn’t know.”
“You knew I was on my knees in a hospital hallway.”
“I thought you were putting on a show.”
“You knew the doctors were pushing for an urgent transfer.”
“I thought you were pressuring me.”
“You knew my mother had a history of cerebrovascular disease.”
This time, he had no answer.
I took the formal license-termination notice from Ezra and set it on the table.
“The termination notice has now been formally served. When the seven-day notice period expires, Cor Nova will no longer be authorized to use the relationship-assessment model jointly developed by Anna Sinclair and me.”
“All related courses, question banks, and real-life case materials will have to be removed.”
Dante seemed not to hear me.
He was still staring at my mother’s portrait in my arms.
“When is her memorial?”
“That has nothing to do with you.”
“I was listed as her secondary emergency contact.”
“Because she once thought of you as her future son-in-law.”
I picked up the blue leather notebook.
The torn page drooped loose from the binding.
“You aren’t anymore.”
Dante reached as if to help steady the urn in my arms.
I moved away.
Ezra stepped between us.
As the elevator doors closed, I saw Dante standing exactly where I had left him.
At his feet lay the white flower he had crushed.
No one picked it up.