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Shattered Vows: Marrying The Dark Don Novel Cover

Shattered Vows: Marrying The Dark Don

For seven years, I have been the submissive commoner wife of Julian, the New York Mafia boss. When he finally realized what he had ruined and stabbed himself with a dagger, begging for my forgiveness, I simply turned and walked away. I endured his endless betrayals and cruelty for only one reason: he paid for my grandmother's life-sustaining treatment. But while he was busy buying diamonds for his new mistress, the pressure of his emotional abuse caused me to lose our child. His mistress broke into my grandmother's hospital room and threw explicit photos of her and Julian in my grandmother's face. My grandmother died from shock. Julian knew nothing about this. “Go home, Sienna. You’re pregnant. Stop making a scene, or I’ll cut off your grandmother’s medical bills tomorrow.” When I found him, he arrogantly thought I was just throwing a tantrum. He didn't know our child was gone. He didn't know that my grandmother had passed away. In front of all his men, I poured a glass of whiskey over his head, left the signed divorce papers on his table, and then boarded a one-way flight to Germany. I will leave him forever.
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Chapter 3

Sienna's POV:

I sat in the back of a speeding taxi, city lights blurring past the window, heading to the airport terminal for my flight to Germany.

The shrill, insistent ring of my phone shattered my thoughts.

I glanced at the caller ID.

The screen flashed: Valenti Family Hospital.

A cold feeling washed over me.

That kind of dread took me back to the day I first brought my grandmother there.

I had rushed back to my rural hometown after learning she'd collapsed.

Local doctors diagnosed her with late-stage lung cancer.

I was sitting in that rundown county hospital, watching over her frail body.

Julian walked in.

His custom suit was soaked, his Italian leather shoes caked with mud from slipping down the rain-slicked embankment while desperately searching for me.

With unshakeable authority, he introduced himself to the doctors.

He put his arm around my shoulder, claiming to be my husband.

My grandmother, stirred by his voice, woke up.

She looked at me, asking weakly if we were still happy together.

I was too afraid any sign of distress might hurt her, so I didn't dare pull away from Julian's grip.

Julian smiled a tender smile.

He played the perfect husband, a picture of devotion, so easily it was sickening.

He insisted on transferring her to the family's state-of-the-art facility in the city.

For six months, my grandmother thrived in that luxurious hospital.

The mafia's top doctors assured us she had years left.

During that time, Julian acted like a family man. He was glued to my side, cooking for me every day, playing the part of a man deeply in love.

Then, one day, I brought homemade soup to his regular office.

I pushed the door open without knocking.

And I heard the sounds of Julian having sex with his secretary on his desk.

My hands trembled violently.

The thermos slipped from my grasp, spilling hot soup all over the carpet.

Caught red-handed, Julian's face twisted in rage.

He grabbed a heavy crystal ashtray and hurled it blindly at the wall.

It shattered on impact, and a sharp shard flew out, slicing my calf. A line of blood ran down my bare leg.

The secretary fled in terror.

I didn't scream.

Instead, I calmly slid the diamond wedding ring from my finger and placed it on the nearby end table.

Julian, utterly unconcerned about my bleeding leg, calmly lit a cigarette.

He coldly reminded me of my position.

"Grandma's life support is paid for and guaranteed by me," he exhaled a plume of smoke. "If you file for divorce, the payments stop. Grandma dies. You should understand that."

That night, I moved out of the master bedroom and locked myself in a guest room.

Two weeks later, visiting the hospital, I caught Julian cornering my grandmother's private nurse in a stairwell, kissing her hungrily.

Afterwards, I cornered him, begging him not to let my grandmother find out.

She was too weak; I feared any upsetting news would harm her.

Julian just leaned down, kissed the bitter tears from my eyes, and ordered me back to his bed.

From that moment on, our marriage became a living nightmare.

My sole purpose for existing was to keep my grandmother alive.

Now, sitting in the cold airport terminal, the relentless buzzing of my phone yanked me back.

I finally answered.

"Miss Sienna," a clipped voice said. "We're calling regarding the arrangement of your grandmother's personal effects."

I gripped the phone tightly.

I already knew she was gone.

"I need to come clear out the room," I said, my voice raspy.

I ordered the driver to turn around, my heart hammering against my ribs in a terrifying rhythm.

An hour later, I walked the sterile corridors of the private hospital.

Two nurses stood outside my grandmother's closed door, whispering.

So absorbed in their gossip, they didn't notice me approach.

"Horrible," one nurse shuddered, her voice low. "She died in such agony. Her face was streaked with tears, she couldn't breathe, clutching her chest... it wasn't peaceful at all."

I stopped dead.

Grandma was supposed to have passed peacefully in her sleep.

Why was the nurse saying she died in agony?

A sudden, panicked urgency drove me forward. I pushed past the startled nurses and threw open the heavy door.

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