The Sixth Goodbye

I had broken up with Lorenzo five times, and Gianna had always been the reason.

Lorenzo had used our wedding fund to buy Gianna a penthouse in Tribeca.

Each time I made up my mind to leave him, he would break down in tears and beg for another chance, promising that it would never happen again.

Staring into his love-struck eyes, I always gave him another chance.

Today was the day I would pick out my wedding dress and set our wedding date.

I waited in the bridal shop from noon until dark, but Lorenzo was nowhere to be found.

At ten that night, his friend, Marco, called me.

“Naomi, Lorenzo’s in the emergency room. Come quickly–”

I cut him off. “Is it because of Gianna again?”

Marco stammered an explanation, but exhaustion washed over me.

I closed my eyes before uttering in a flat tone, “I won’t be there. Tell him that it’s over between us.”

This wasn’t the first time Gianna Greco had come between Lorenzo Vitale and me.

Gianna was the daughter of the Vitales’ consigliere. Three years ago, her brother squandered the family fortune in Las Vegas after their father died of cancer.

Don Benito Vitale reached out to lend a hand, setting her up in a luxury apartment in Long Island. She had lived there ever since.

To keep up with her life of privilege, Gianna would play sweet to get money from my boyfriend, Lorenzo.

Lorenzo was Benito’s second-born son.

With Matteo, the firstborn, taking over the family’s mafia empire, Lorenzo was free to keep his hands clean.

Benito secured Lorenzo a well-paying job at an investment firm in Manhattan, but the money was nowhere near enough to keep up with Gianna’s endless demands.

So, Lorenzo started skimming money from the family’s books.

He worked with one of the veteran family accountants in the shadows, funneling Benito’s money into Gianna’s account.

Even Matteo chose to look the other way. As far as he was concerned, Matteo was willing to let things slide so long as Lorenzo kept his activity under wraps.

However, I couldn’t accept that fact.

Each time I made up my mind to end things, Lorenzo would break down in tears and beg for another chance, swearing it was the last time. The love in his eyes was why I folded every single time.

Today was the day we were supposed to go to the bridal shop for my gown fitting and set our wedding date.

I waited in the bridal shop from noon until dark, but Lorenzo never showed up.

That night, I got a call from his buddy, Marco, at ten o’clock.

“Naomi, there’s been an accident. Lorenzo was jumped in Brooklyn. He’s been taken to the ER—”

I cut him off. “Is he there because of Gianna again?”

Marco stammered, “Gianna had her eye on a penthouse in Tribeca…. Lorenzo was caught moving some funds from the books, and the commission…

Not having any of it, I interrupted, “Is he badly wounded?”

“He took a knife to his left shoulder. He’s been stitched up. It’s not fatal, but—”

Gianna’s shrill and entitled voice came on the line. “Lorenzo! You promised me to get the money by Monday.’

Marco spoke in hushed tones, “Naomi, you need to get down here. Lorenzo has been asking for you.”

A wave of exhaustion washed over me.

The constant emotional tug of war was never-ending.

Whenever I thought I was ready to heal and move on, he would rip the wound wide open and rub salt on it.

I closed my eyes, my voice steady. “I won’t be there.

“Tell him that I’m done with him.”