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He Faked Death, I Married The Don Novel Cover

He Faked Death, I Married The Don

I was arranging white lilies on the cold marble of my husband's grave when I saw a ghost. Walking through the cemetery gates was a man who looked exactly like my dead husband, Dante. Logic said it was his twin brother, Matteo. But a wife knows the slope of a man's shoulders. She knows the arrogant tilt of his chin. My husband hadn't been blown up in a car bomb three years ago. He had faked his death to steal his brother's rank, his fortune, and his mistress. For three years, I had forced our son, Leo, to kiss a photograph goodnight. We lived in a damp, peeling apartment, surviving on the "charity" of the Family. Meanwhile, Dante was living in a mansion, driving cars that cost more than my life, playing house with another woman. When he came to our cramped apartment to drop off the monthly "pension" money, pretending to be Uncle Matteo, he didn't look at me with love. He looked at his watch. When Leo ran to hug him, shouting "Papa," Dante peeled the boy's small arms off his expensive suit like he was removing a piece of lint. "Don't call me that," he snapped. "I am your Uncle." My grief turned into ice. He chose another woman's comfort over his own son's hunger. I grabbed Leo's hand and walked out the door. "You walk away, and you get nothing!" Dante shouted after me. "You'll be on the street!" I didn't stop. I walked straight to the black SUV idling at the curb. The window rolled down, revealing Salvatore Vitiello. The Don. The most lethal man in the city. "Get in, Elena," he commanded. I opened the door and slid onto the leather seat next to the devil himself. As we drove away, leaving my husband in the dust, I realized I had just traded a liar for a killer. And I didn't regret it for a second.
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Chapter 4

Elena POV

The boutique smelled of expensive lavender and old money. It was a place I had walked past a thousand times but never previously dared to cross the threshold.

The salesgirl swept her gaze over my worn black dress with polite disdain.

"Can I help you find something... more suitable?" she asked, her voice dripping with judgment.

I ignored her. I walked past the rack of black dresses. I bypassed the greys. I didn't even glance at the navys.

I stopped in front of a dress the color of heavy cream. It was silk. It was backless. It was the kind of dress a woman wears when she wants to be seen, not hidden.

"I will take this one," I said, my voice steady.

"And I will wear it out."

Ten minutes later, I stepped onto the sidewalk. The silk moved against my skin like cool water. I had left the black dress in the trash can of the dressing room, shedding it like a dead skin.

I felt naked. I felt powerful.

Leo was holding my hand, his shoulders squared beneath the new backpack I had bought him with the last of my savings. It was blue, with a superhero on it.

"Mama, you look pretty," he said.

"Thank you, baby."

We turned the corner, and the world abruptly shrank.

Dante and Gina were coming out of a jewelry store.

They stopped.

Dante's eyes went wide. He looked me up and down, his gaze snagging on the way the cream silk clung to my hips. He looked like he had seen a ghost, but this time, the ghost was flesh and blood.

"Elena?" he whispered.

Gina looked at me, her eyes narrowing with instant jealousy.

"What are you wearing?" she hissed. "You are a widow. Have you no shame?"

I looked at her. I looked at the diamond bracelet glittering on her wrist.

"My mourning period is over," I said.

Dante stepped forward. He looked at Leo. He saw the cheap backpack.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick wad of cash.

"Here," he said, trying to thrust it at Leo. "Buy a real bag. Not that junk."

Leo looked at the money. Then he looked at Dante.

He took a step back, pressing his body against my leg.

"I like this one," Leo said, his voice small but firm. "Mama bought it."

Dante's hand froze in the air.

"Leo, take the money," he commanded. The old authority leaked into his voice, heavy and suffocating.

"No," I said.

I stepped between them. I was smaller than him. I was weaker than him. But in that moment, I was a wall of reinforced steel.

"Keep your money, Dante. We don't want it."

I tried to step around him, but he grabbed my arm. His grip was tight, possessive.

"You are making a mistake, Elena. You are vulnerable. You need me."

I looked at his hand on my arm.

"Let go," I said.

"Or what?" he sneered, leaning in close. "Who is going to stop me?"

A low rumble of an engine cut through the noise of the street.

A black SUV pulled up to the curb, sleek and menacing. The window rolled down.

Salvatore Vitiello sat in the back seat. He was wearing a dark suit that cost more than my life. His eyes were like obsidian, cold and sharp. He didn't even glance at Dante. He looked straight at me.

"Is there a problem, Elena?" his voice was low, a velvet threat.

Dante dropped my arm as if it burned him. He took a step back, his face draining of color.

"Don Vitiello," Dante stammered. "I was just... speaking to my sister-in-law."

Salvatore didn't blink.

"It looked like you were bothering her."

"No, sir. Never."

Salvatore kept his gaze fixed on me.

"Get in, Elena."

It wasn't a question. It was a command. But it was also an offer.

I looked at Dante. I saw the fear in his eyes. He was a Soldier. Salvatore was the King.

I opened the car door. I helped Leo inside.

I didn't look back at Dante.

I slid onto the leather seat next to the most dangerous man in the city.

"Drive," Salvatore said.

As the car pulled away, I realized I had just traded a liar for a killer.

And I didn't regret it for a second.

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