---- Chapter 18 Alex POV: | flew back to New York like a man possessed. | burst into our penthouse, calling her name. "Katarina!" The only answer was the echo of my own voice in the vast, empty space. Everything of hers was gone. Her clothes, her books, her perfume that used to linger in the air. The apartment was a sterile, silent museum of my failure. She had been erased. The weeks that followed were a blur of whiskey and sleepless nights. | unleashed the full might of the De Luca organization to find her. Every resource, every contact, every soldier. But it was like chasing a ghost. My father had hidden her well. Every lead went cold, every trail vanished. Donato had rendered his own son powerless. 2 My Capos tried to talk to me, to offer advice. One of them made the mistake of mentioning Aria's name. | nearly broke his jaw. | put out the word: anyone who had ever been associated with Aria Diaz was to be scrubbed from our operations. | was trying to erase my mistake, but the stain was permanent. ---- | wandered the empty apartment at night, a phantom in my own home. I'd open her closet and breathe in the faint scent of her that still clung to the cedar walls. I'd sit in her art studio, staring at a blank canvas, tortured by the memory of her talent, her quiet passion. Sleep offered no escape. | was haunted by nightmares. | saw her on the floor of the party, bleeding, while | ran to another woman. | heard my own voice, calling her a "cold sculpture." Each memory was a fresh stab of a knife | had wielded myself. | started to remember the little things. The way she'd put a hand on my arm to calm me in tense meetings. The quiet strength she projected, a perfect Mafia Queen who ruled our social world with grace and intelligence. The way her eyes would light up when she talked about a painting she loved. | had possessed a masterpiece, a rare and priceless work of art, and | had traded it for a cheap forgery. One night, the loneliness and the regret became a physical weight, crushing the air from my lungs. | sank to the floor in the middle of our empty living room, the city lights twinkling mockingly outside the windows. A sound tore from my throat, a raw, ragged sob of a man who has lost his soul. "Katarina," | choked out to the empty room. "Please. Come ---- back." But the only answer was silence. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!