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Imprisoned by the Don I Called Mine Novel Cover

Imprisoned by the Don I Called Mine

After three years in a hellish prison, the wife of New York’s underworld kingpin, Don Lorenzo, is finally free. She was framed for her own father’s murder by the man she loved to shield his childhood flame, Cassandra Viti. Lorenzo faked the evidence to ensure her conviction, but now he expects her to return as his Donna once his debt to Cassandra is paid. Armed with a black card and a bitter heart, she must navigate the betrayal of a husband who chose another woman’s safety over her freedom.
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Chapter 8

I stood outside room 308, my hand clutching the white roses.

Three years. I was finally here.

I reached for the doorknob, but stopped when I heard a voice from inside.

"...so you see, old woman, what kind of person your precious granddaughter really is."

It was Cassandra.

What was she doing here?

My hand froze in the air. I listened through the crack in the door.

"She killed her own father," Cassandra's voice was dripping with malicious glee. "Then she played the innocent victim and fooled everyone."

"No… that's not… " a frail voice trembled in protest.

Nonna.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

"Oh? It's not?" Cassandra laughed. "Then why did she do three years in prison? Why did Lorenzo himself testify against her?"

"Isabella's not… she wouldn't…" Nonna's voice was getting weaker.

"She wouldn't?" Cassandra's laugh was even more piercing. "You're so naive, old woman. Your 'good' granddaughter is trying to kill me now, too."

I heard the heart monitor begin to beep erratically.

Beep-beep-beep—

Nonna's heart was failing.

"See? The truth is the truth," Cassandra said, without a shred of pity. "Your granddaughter is a born killer, just like her father. An eye for an eye. It's fate!"

Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep—

The alarm on the monitor grew faster, more desperate.

I couldn't take it anymore.

BAM—

I threw my shoulder into the door, slamming it open.

"Nonna!" I screamed, rushing to the bed.

The old woman lying there was just skin and bones, her face a deathly white.

Was this really the warm, kind Nonna I remembered?

"Isabella…" she whispered, reaching out a weak hand. "My child…"

I grabbed her cold hand, tears instantly streaming down my face.

"Nonna, I'm back. I'm finally back…"

Cassandra jumped at my sudden entrance, stumbling backward.

"Ah—!"

She stepped on a piece of broken glass on the floor, cutting her ankle.

A drop of blood welled up. She immediately started to panic.

"Blood… there's blood… Lorenzo! Lorenzo, help me!"

Her screams tore through the quiet facility.

"Doctor! Get a doctor!" I yelled into the hallway. "My grandmother is having a heart attack!"

The beeping of the monitor grew sharper, more frantic.

Nonna's breathing was shallow, her fingers like ice.

"Isabella…" she said, her voice strained. "I've… been waiting for you…"

"Nonna, hold on, the doctor's coming…"

Just then, Lorenzo burst into the room.

He saw the drop of blood on the floor, he saw the hysterical Cassandra, and his face turned to thunder.

"Isabella!" he snarled. "What the hell did you do to her?"

What was I doing?

I couldn't believe my ears.

"Lorenzo, Nonna's having a heart attack, call a doctor—"

"Cassandra's hurt!" he cut me off, rushing to where she was huddled in the corner. "Baby, are you okay?"

Baby?

I watched, frozen, as he knelt down to gently inspect the tiny cut on Cassandra's ankle.

"It hurts… it hurts so much…" Cassandra sobbed, a perfect picture of distress. "Lorenzo, I was so scared…"

"I'm here now. Don't be scared." Lorenzo held her, then barked at the doctor who had just arrived. "Come look at Miss Viti's cut! Now!"

"No!" I blocked the doctor's path. "My grandmother is dying!"

Lorenzo’s eyes were black with fury. "Enough. Cassandra is hurt."

"Lorenzo, please…" I fell to my knees, grabbing his pants leg. "Nonna is dying. Please, just let the doctor save her first…"

Lorenzo coldly shook me off. "If she has the strength to hurt Cassandra, then it can't be that serious."

He scooped Cassandra up into his arms. "Treat Miss Viti's wound," he ordered the doctor. "Everything else can wait."

"Mr. Romano," the doctor said, looking torn. "But the old woman's condition…"

"That's an order!" Lorenzo’s eyes flashed with menace.

The doctor gave me a helpless look, then followed Lorenzo out of the room.

And just like that, they were gone.

Leaving me alone with my dying grandmother.

Beep… beep… beep…

The monitor's alarm was slowing down.

"Nonna, hold on…" I squeezed her hand. "I'll find another doctor…"

"Isabella…" her voice was as faint as a feather. "Don't… hate…"

"What?" I leaned in close, my ear to her lips.

"Don't let… the hate… eat you…"

BEEEEEEEEEEEEP—

The monitor let out one long, final tone.

Then, silence.

Nonna's hand slipped from mine.

She was gone.

The only family I had in the world. Gone.

And in her final moments, Lorenzo chose to treat a scratch on Cassandra's ankle that didn't even need a band-aid.

I knelt by her bed, silent tears streaming down my face.

Five days later.

Lorenzo walked in holding a document.

I was sitting on the living room sofa, numbly watching TV.

Nonna's funeral was over. Lorenzo hadn't even shown up.

He said he had to take care of the "injured" Cassandra.

"Isabella," Lorenzo said, placing the papers on the coffee table. "Sign it."

I looked down.

Divorce Agreement.

"This is Cassandra's last wish," Lorenzo said, his voice flat. "She wants a grand wedding. To solidify the alliance between the Romano and Viti families."

An alliance?

He was going to marry my father's killer for an alliance?

I picked up the pen. The ink flowed, my signature clean and sharp. No hesitation. No regrets.

He stared, clearly thrown by my lack of a fight.

"Bella, you…"

"Is there anything else?" I asked without looking up.

Lorenzo opened his mouth, but said nothing.

He picked up the signed papers and turned to leave.

At the door, he stopped.

"Isabella, I…"

"Get out," I said. My voice was quiet, but it was final.

After Lorenzo left, I walked into the bedroom.

The walls were covered in photos of us.

Every picture, a memory of a love that was now dead.

I took them down, one by one. And I tore each one to pieces. The fragments fluttered to the floor, like the shattered pieces of my heart.

Finally, I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of that home for the last time.

Lorenzo. Cassandra. You gave me three years of hell.

Now, it's my turn.

I'm going to give you a wedding gift you will never, ever forget.

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