He Chose Childhood Sweetheart, I Married the Don

Luca took Lila to the village doctor and didn't come back for three days. Three days of peace — I was grateful for it.

I dug out the letter from the bottom of my suitcase, thoughts turning it over from every angle.

The truth was, a month after Lila arrived, the Ferrara family had sent someone.

The messenger was Donato's chief counsel, a woman with a face that didn't invite argument and a voice that meant every word. She read me the letter start to finish, not missing a syllable.

I stared at her. "You want me to... marry Donato Ferrara?"

"Miss Caldwell," she said, crisp and precise, "it would be Don Ferrara now."

That's when it clicked.

The previous Don had been killed last month, betrayed by someone inside his own organization and found dead in the basement of his own estate. Donato Ferrara had stepped into control of the most powerful crime network on the island.

Lila had probably run when the power shift happened. The Caldwell family's network of outside connections had collapsed overnight and she had nowhere to turn.

I read through the letter again. And again.

The counsel had explained: yes, this was a family arrangement, but Donato understood the weight of it. He was giving me a full year to consider. If I refused, he would not force the matter and would guarantee me an independent place of protection, no strings.

When I first heard that, I exhaled quietly with relief.

But now. Maybe it was time to end this.

Rain had been coming down in the hills for a solid month.

I asked Addie to go into town for some herbal medicine, since my back had been acting up. But it was Luca who brought the bowl in, still steaming.

He blew on a spoonful and held it out to me. "You're taking medicine again? Is it your back?"

His voice was a little rough, but there was warmth underneath it.

I turned away. "Like you actually care."

He hesitated, then set the spoon down. A small smile. "You're getting more stubborn every day, Fia. Still upset because I haven't spent enough time with you lately?"

I said nothing.

He kept going, as if he hadn't noticed. "Lila got hurt, and you scared her pretty badly on top of that. As your man, it's only right that I look after her."

He patted my back and sighed like he was the one being reasonable. "You're the older one here. Don't make it into such a big thing."

I was so tired of watching him perform. I knocked his hand away. "Is there something else you need? If not, you can go."

His expression flickered, then smoothed back into something soft. "I know you're still angry. I know you don't want to see Lila. She's been scared too; she came back and won't leave her room because she's afraid of running into you."

I took a few sips of the medicine and looked up. "Just say what you came to say."

He hesitated. "Lila's not healing well if she stays cooped up, but she's scared to go out because she might see you. So how about you stay in the cellar for a few days and give her some space."

I stared at him.

The cellar. The Galvani estate cellar, where they kept enemies for interrogation.

He wanted to lock his own woman in a room built for prisoners, just to make room for the half-sister he'd brought into their lives.

He looked away and rubbed his temple. "I'll have it set up just like the bedroom, I promise. The moment Lila's a little better, I'll come get you. She's your sister, Sofia."

I couldn't hear another word. I threw the bowl of medicine in his face.

He lurched back, looking ridiculous.

"Sofia, do you think you're still the Caldwell heiress? That family's gone. This estate, every stone of it, I built with my own hands. I tell you to go, you go. Someone get her bags."

I looked at him steadily. The snarling face in front of me had nothing to do with the Luca I remembered.

"Finally showing me who you are?" I said.

He stormed out.

I watched his men scrambling to pack my things and wiped my eyes quietly. "Don't bother," I said. "I'll go myself."

I took the letter and a few changes of clothes and walked out.

When I was far enough from the house, I found one of the estate's carrier pigeons — the kind kept for urgent messages — and sent one of my own.

[Sofia agrees.]

It was past time to leave these hills behind.