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The Broken Don: Losing My Only Queen

Chapter 2 Chapter 2

Word Count: 1083    |    Released on: Today at 15:00

n's

nte did something he

rble kitchen, sleeves rolled to

r

was the man I fell in love with-the one who existed before the power, befor

reet bridal boutique downtown. The kind of place

m gowns had been flown in from Paris at dawn. French emb

long legs with that effortless elegance that had made him the mos

on. I'll be

he first gown over my shoulders. Heavy. Magnificent. A const

gilded mirror as th

tion. The moment I transformed fr

is pho

scrape of chair legs on polished marble. The

heavy skirts

is jacket, striding toward the d

meeting my eyes. "I'll be back in an

efore I could

hut. The silence s

et sofa. Crossed my ankles.

I wa

mpagne. I declined. Espresso. I s

in the corner ticked.

en. A low, insistent throb that I told myself was hunger. Or stress. Or

s slow descent outside the

ickered on, casting long shad

twe

g dress, waiting for a m

into something that made me grip the

y phone and di

And rang.

-a c

el

Da

Dripping with the kind of sweet venom

nd my voice sounded far a

indulgent, like I was a ch

round. "This crystal chandelier is impossibly heavy. He's bee

ne wen

rk phone screen. A woman in a weddi

ry. I didn

didn't tremble. Pulled on my street clothes. Walked pas

the Rossi Compo

vy as a burial shroud. The guards recognized my face and parted like

the overgrown hedges. Up to t

looked

as. My fut

o his elbows, fingers adjusting a delicate vintage wind chime. The kin

robe, head tilted back, watchi

y teeth ache-he reached over and stroked her cat

eathly alle

ing me away. He claimed his throat would close up. Now his fingers wer

ing him smile at her, watching him do for her what he'd never once don

ized. Just never wil

en the heav

rough the marble fo

hat damn cat to her chest like a shield. Her eyes

stic warmth on his face evaporat

older than the rain so

acked through the cavernous room like a

answer. I

clinging to his dark wool suit. The same

tween us with the predatory grace of a man who had never bee

e rose to

there t

into the freezing rain. The

e heavy doors

of a final

ould have stopped believ

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The Broken Don: Losing My Only Queen
The Broken Don: Losing My Only Queen
“For five years, I was the shadow of the city's most ruthless Mafia Don-stitching his gunshot wounds, surviving gang wars, and believing every promise he whispered in the dark. I thought our love was forged in blood and unbreakable. Until his childhood flame crawled back to the city with nothing but debt. Suddenly, the man who once sprinted through a blizzard to bring me medicine had no time for me. He secretly wired fifty million dollars of syndicate money to buy back her ancestral estate. He abandoned me in a bridal boutique for twelve hours-just to go hang a vintage chandelier for her. When I brought him homemade soup, he shoved me violently against a doorframe to protect her from a tiny, fake scratch. He never noticed the blood pooling down my legs. I lost our two-month-old baby on an operating table that night. Alone. I signed the surgical consent forms myself while he drove off into the rain because she was scared of a thunderstorm. When he finally returned, weeping on his knees and clutching my bloodied consent form, my heart was already dead. I walked away. Left the penthouse keys. Moved into a studio on the East Side. Started designing dresses instead of stitching wounds. Now he stands in the rain outside my office, the former king of the underworld reduced to a ghost with ruined shoes. He thinks I'll soften. He thinks a few tears can erase five years of betrayal. He's wrong. Because I'm standing on a stage at Paris Fashion Week, a crystal trophy in my hand and a good man on one knee. And when I catch a glimpse of his hollow face in the shadows, I feel nothing but relief. This is not a story of forgiveness. This is a story of what happens when a queen remembers she doesn't need a king.”