After My Third Divorce From Godfather, I Will Never Come Back Chapter 08
Nate autumn, the chill of New York seeped into the bones.
Yet inside the banquet hall, glasses clinked, conversations flowed, and warmth filled the air.
I held a glass of champagne while discussing the new harbor project with the real estate tycoon hosting the event..
But from the corner of my eye, I caught a sudden commotion at the entrance.
A waiter respectfully bowed and escorted someone inside.
Three years had passed.
His features had barely changed, though he looked thinner, and a few strands of silver had appeared at his temples.
The custom–made black suit he wore was wrinkled, and on his hand was still the wedding ring that symbolized our love.
He searched through the crowd for something.
His gaze was desperate and frantic, like a man who had lost his most precious treasure.
Then, finally, he saw me.
His footsteps stopped.
His entire body froze in place.
I looked away and continued chatting with the real estate tycoon.
“Fifteen percent of the profit share. I can’t offer more than that, Mr. Richard. You should know that our channels are the cleanest in all of America.”
“Deal, Godmother.”
Richard raised his glass with a smile and shook my hand.
Andre pushed through the crowd and stopped in front of me.
His voice was sharp and accusing.
“Rachel!”
His eyes were bloodshot, and his gaze was locked on my hand intertwined with Richard’s.
“You are my wife. What do you think you are doing now?”
Richard didn’t know the history between us.
He immediately stepped forward and blocked me behind him.
“Sir, if you continue being disrespectful, I have every right to ask you to leave…”
“Shut up!”
“She is my wife!”
Andre gritted his teeth as he spoke to Richard.
“What are you supposed to be? You think you are worthy of touching her?”
Richard was about to argue back, but I tugged lightly on his sleeve and shook my head.
I looked at Andre as if I were looking at a stranger.
“Andre, our third divorce happened exactly three years ago.”
His eyes shook violently, as if he was struggling to process the reality of my words.
His breathing grew heavier.
He took a step toward me, but the coldness in my eyes forced him to stop.
By now, many people in the hall had turned their attention toward us.
Whispers spread through the room like a rising tide.
“Rachel, we need to talk.”
He lowered his voice.
“Just five minutes.”
“There is nothing for me to discuss with the Loreto Family.”
I turned to leave, but he grabbed my wrist.
“Please.”
The word left his lips, causing everyone around us to inhale sharply.
Andre Loreto, the youngest godfather in Sicily, the undisputed ruler of the underworld, had actually said the word “please” to a woman in front of everyone.
I lowered my gaze to his fingers wrapped around my wrist.
His knuckles had turned white, and his hand was trembling slightly.
“Let go.”
My voice was soft, but everyone could hear the chill within it.
“Or I will have someone throw you out.”
Andre’s fingers immediately released me, as if they had been burned.
He stared into my eyes, desperately searching for even the smallest trace of warmth.
But he found nothing.
Three years ago, those eyes had cried for him and smiled for him.
Now, they were like a frozen lake, unable to reflect anything.
“You’ve changed.”
His voice was hoarse.
“People change.”
I straightened the sleeve he had wrinkled.
Especially after being hurt by the same person three times.”
Those words were like a blade, piercing straight into his heart.
Andre’s body swayed slightly.
I could even see his Adam’s apple moving violently as he swallowed.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
But in the end, only a few broken words came out.
“I’m sorry.”
I didn’t look back at him.
I turned around and disappeared into the crowd.
Behind me, Andre remained standing there.
Like a stone statue abandoned by the world.
