Until The Last Day (Claire and Lorenzo) novel Chapter 8

Lorenzo’s POV 

The plane touched down and my phone woke up like it was drowning. 

Dozens of missed calls. Hundreds of messages. All from my mom, Lola Moretti. 

I didn’t even open them. I ran. 

She was waiting at the arrival gate, small inside her coat, hair messy, eyes red. When she saw me, she rushed forward and grabbed my arms. 

“Claire is gone,” she said, breathless. “She’s not home. Where is she? Where did she go?” 

All the calm I’d rehearsed on the flight shattered. My bag slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a dull thud. I couldn’t breathe. 

“She… she has to be home,” I said. “She has to be. Maybe you missed her. Maybe she’s—” 

“She isn’t,” Mom said, her voice sharp with fear. “I checked every room. I checked the elevator camera with the doorman. I called the neighbors. She’s gone.” 

I shook my head and stumbled toward the exit like I could somehow outrun her words. Mom hurried after me. 

“Lorenzo,” she said, lowering her voice, “something is wrong in that apartment.”  

I stopped. Turned. 

“What do you mean?”  

She swallowed. “Half of Claire’s things are gone. Not just gone… erased. Her clothes. Her trinkets. Those scarves she liked. Even the snacks she kept in the cabinet. Did you two fight?” 

The words hit me like cold water. A memory rose; small, ordinary, and suddenly huge. 

Claire cutting up photo prints at the table. Claire telling me the mugs got moldy. Claire saying the styles were outdated, that she’d donate the gifts I gave her. Claire standing at the closet, quiet as snow, removing pairs. 

I had smiled weakly and let it pass. I had a trip to plan. There were calls to take. Aria’s text pinging like a bell in my pocket. 

My stomach flipped. 

“She was… getting rid of things,” I said, more to myself than to Mom. “Every day. I thought she was tidying up.” 

Mom’s eyes searched mine. “What are you saying, Lorenzo? Did you two had a fight?” 

I looked at my mother’s face but my mind was not wondering about her question. Instead, I felt something give way inside me, like ice cracking underfoot. The last time I looked into Claire’s eyes flashed across my mind. It was not peace, not anger, but a stillness so complete it scared  

When I told her I had to leave Switzerland for “work,” she didn’t ask where. She didn’t ask when I’d be back. She didn’t try to stop me.  

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