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The Broken Don: Losing My Only Queen

Chapter 4 Chapter 4

Word Count: 889 | Released on: Today at 15:00

n's

g, Dante became a

tters. Things a mere fiancée

did-shower, change of clothes, back out the doo

't break the code of si

bed like a widow in waiting. I poured my rage into my design

rst. Stopped asking wher

ried

woke up with a dull ache that took longer and longer to fade. I didn't know what it was yet

l clinging to the wreckage o

hours making

d. I sealed it in a glass container and planned to drop it at his office be

e last attempt to bridge

tic,

d the windows. And something-some stupid, stubborn flicker

his headquar

y always did. I was still the Don's fiancée, after

My pulse hammered against my ribs. Th

ajar. A sliver of golden li

top

ted through the gap.

back the Rossi Es

ntrolled. "Don't overt

d scraped down my spi

ur future m

lently. Deny it. Tell her you'

there for n

words that shat

d the d

who were supposedly nothing to each other. Camilla's fingers were r

cold calculation of a woman who saw another obstacle standing b

factured

collision with the side table. A sharp, theatric

single pinprick of blood

e whimpered

he l

ted his teeth against the pain, the man who'd promised me forev

er slammed

cracked against the heavy doorframe. The glass contain

d in a grotesque h

-then the re

ack. Not

olded me in half. I slid down the doorframe. My v

. Dabbing her microscopic wound with his monogrammed han

on the floor. Saw the broke

ack around Camilla's wrist. Something-confusion, a dawn

bbed his sleeve.

d back to

at me, crumpled on the floor, white a

ause a scen

scream buildin

But I braced them against the wall and dragge

The words tasted like ash.

as a knife in my abdomen, but

nd ripped from somewhere primal, somewher

was t

iled down my thighs as

ars of

away

Chapter End

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The Broken Don: Losing My Only Queen

Dolores Mafia

“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.”