Chapter 50 The search
Across town, Sienna sat by the window of a tiny rented apartment. Her phone buzzed endlessly, lighting up with messages she never read.
“Gold digger.”
“Homewrecker.”
“You ruined him.”
Sometimes the messages were worse. Sometimes they used her full name.
She’d thought leaving the villa would bring peace, but the world outside was louder.
Every time she went to buy groceries, she felt eyes on her. Every time she checked her inbox, there were new threats or gossip requests.
She kept working at the small clinic where she’d once volunteered. The pay was low, but the patients were kind.She told herself it was enough, until she got her approval to leave Monaco.
Still, some nights she’d catch herself turning her head when a car passed, heart racing, waiting for headlights she knew wouldn’t stop for her.
Dante wouldn’t come. He’d made that clear.
And yet, she couldn’t stop replaying his voice in her head, the broken way he’d said her name before everything shattered.
She whispered to herself, “You did the right thing. You left before he could hurt you again.”
But the truth was, leaving hadn’t stopped the hurt at all. It just changed where it lived.
At the villa, Dante spent another sleepless night in his study. He stared at the empty desk. The papers she used to organize, the mug she used to leave for him every morning, they were all gone.
Then, his eyes caught a small folded note tucked beneath a stack of files. His pulse skipped.
He unfolded it slowly, recognizing her neat handwriting immediately.
“You said you wanted to learn to walk again..I just never thought it would be away from me.”
He stared at the words until they blurred.
It wasn’t anger that came this time..It was clarity.
He read it again. Then again. And something inside him shifted..The guilt that had been holding him in place started to burn into determination.
He whispered quietly, “Not this time.”
He folded the letter, slipped it into his jacket pocket, and stood up.
His cane leaned against the wall but he didn’t reach for it. He took one step. Then another.
The floorboards creaked beneath him, his legs shaking but steady.
By the time he reached the door, his face was set not with fury, but with purpose.
He was done hiding behind pride.He was done letting Isabelle turn his silence into her victory. He was done pretending he was better off without Sienna.
He opened the door to the cold night. The air stung, sharp and wet with salt. The storm that had hovered for days was finally breaking.
He took a deep breath. And walked out.
Rain. That was the first thing Sienna heard when she woke up.
It beat against the window of her tiny seaside apartment, the same way her thoughts had beaten against her all night. She’d barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him, the fury in his face, the way his voice had broken when he said he regrets loving her.
You don’t just forget words like that. They stick, like bruises that never fade.
Her phone buzzed again, another unknown number. Probably a journalist. Probably someone else asking for her side of the story. She turned it face down, refusing to give them the satisfaction.
The kettle whistled. She poured herself tea with trembling hands, though she knew she wouldn’t drink it. The cup sat untouched as she stared at the gray sea beyond the window.
She didn’t hate him. She wished she could. It would’ve been easier that way.
But she loved him. God help her, she still loved him.
Outside, Dante stood in the rain.
He had knocked once and there was no response. He hadn’t knocked again since the first time. He just waited. Water soaked through his coat and dripped from his hair, running down the back of his neck. His legs ached, but he stayed on his feet.
He’d been there for almost three hours.
At first, he’d told himself she’d open the door soon. Then he realized if she didn’t, he’d wait all night.
He deserved this. Every second of it.
He thought of her face the last time he saw her, the way her shoulders had trembled, the way she’d tried to explain and he hadn’t let her.
He had broken the only person who had ever tried to heal him.
The memory of his father’s voice echoed in his head. “Was that part of your healing, son?”
He’d wanted to scream then. Now, he wanted to cry.
He was lucky to see someone who directed him to Sienna's apartment, else his search would have been in vain. But now, he wasn't sure if this was the best decision at the moment. He thought that calling her would have been better, then she might have blocked him
Inside, Sienna finally moved to the door when she heard a faint sound a soft, hesitant tap.
Her heart stuttered. For a moment she thought she imagined it. Then another came.
She froze. She knew that knock.
“No,” she whispered. “Not now.”
Her pulse climbed as she looked through the peephole. There he was.
Dante.
Soaked to the bone, head bowed, his coat plastered to him. He wasn’t saying anything. He wasn’t leaving either.
Her hand hovered over the doorknob.
‘He hurt you, her mind hissed. He accused you. He called you a liar.”
But another voice softer, and stubborn whispered, “At least he came back.”
“Go away,” she called through the door, her voice steady though her heart was shaking.
He looked up, rainwater dripping from his hair. His voice came out rough, cracked from cold and regret.
“I can’t.”
She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against the wood. “Why are you here, Dante?”
“To say I’m sorry.”
The words hit her harder than she expected. She didn’t answer.
“I don’t want you to forgive me,” he went on, voice muffled through the door. “I just need you to know that I’m done running. I should’ve believed you. I should’ve protected you.”
He swallowed hard, fingers gripping the frame as if it could hold him up. “You didn’t deserve what I said. You didn’t deserve me like that.”
Sienna let out a shaky laugh. “You think words can fix that?”
“No,” he said softly. “But I can start with them.”
Minutes stretched into hours. The rain didn’t stop, and neither did he.
He told her everything through that door his anger, his guilt, his fear. How the night before, when he found her note, something inside him finally broke. How he realized that all his life, he’d pushed people away before they could leave him first.
“I did it to my mother,” he said quietly. “Then to Luca. Then to you.”
Sienna felt her throat tighten.
“You were never the problem, Sienna,” he whispered. “It was me. It was always me.”
She turned away from the door, tears spilling down her cheeks. She hated that his voice still had this power, that it still found the softest parts of her.
She wanted to stay angry. She needed to.
But anger was hard to hold when the person outside was freezing and whispering like a man who had already lost everything.
When she finally opened the door, he didn’t move.
Rain poured over him like he belonged to it. His eyes were red-rimmed, his lips trembling from cold, but when he saw her his breath caught.
She looked pale, smaller than he remembered. There were shadows under her eyes.
He hated himself all over again.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice flat.
“I know,” he replied. “But I couldn’t stay away.”
Her jaw tightened. “You think showing up fixes what you broke?”
“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I just... needed you to know I’m still the man you believed in. I’m trying to be.”
She looked away. “You said you regretted loving me.”
“I regret saying it,” he whispered. “Not feeling it.”
Something fragile flickered across her face, disbelief, pain, hope.
“Why should I believe you now?” she asked quietly.