Imprisoned by the Don I Called Mine

Acting?

My heart plunged into an icy abyss.

He would rather believe I was a manipulative actress than believe the real pain in my body.

"You think I was acting?" My voice was hoarse, laced with a bitter laugh.

Lorenzo looked away, a flicker of unease on his face. His voice softened slightly. "Bella, that's not what I meant..."

He reached for my hand. I pulled it back with all my strength.

Three years in prison, plus the internal bleeding, had left me weak.

But not too weak to refuse him.

"I know you've been through a lot," Lorenzo said, his voice gentle now, like he was calming a child throwing a tantrum. "But I need you to hold on a little longer."

Hold on? For what? To watch him and Cassandra play out their epic romance while I faded into the background?

“Two more wishes,” Lorenzo said, his voice flat, final. “Then we’re gone. Lake Como. Just us. We’ll never come back.”

Lake Como.

Our honeymoon spot. The most beautiful memory of our love.

Now it was just another bargaining chip.

"Where is Nonna?" I asked weakly. It was the only thing I cared about.

Lorenzo's face shifted. "She's… not well. She's in a private care facility."

"I want to see her."

"When you're feeling better…"

"Now." I used my last bit of strength to look him in the eye. "I want to see her now."

Lorenzo opened his mouth, about to argue.

Just then, the door flew open.

Marco rushed in, his face a mask of panic.

"Boss! It's Cassandra. She's locked herself in. She's threatening to kill herself!"

Lorenzo was on his feet in an instant.

He looked at me, a moment of conflict in his eyes. But it only lasted a second.

"I'll be right there," he said to me, then rushed out the door without a backward glance.

For Cassandra. Always for Cassandra.

I closed my eyes, my heart a dead weight in my chest.

"Ma'am…"

A soft voice.

I opened my eyes. A young nurse was standing by my bed.

She glanced nervously down the hall, then pulled a folded paper from her pocket.

"Ma'am, this is your real test result."

My hands trembled as I took it. The diagnosis made my breath catch: rupture of an old abdominal injury with internal bleeding, and traces of psychotropic drugs found in the bloodstream. Immediate surgery required.

"What does this mean?"

The nurse lowered her voice. “Ma’am, your old injury is severe. That drug they gave you? It’s designed to trigger exactly what happened. Someone gave your husband a fake report. They told him it was nothing.”

A fake report. Drugs.

I let out a bitter laugh.

"You need surgery now," the nurse said urgently. "If you wait, it could be fatal!"

I picked up my phone and dialed Lorenzo.

"What is it?" His voice was impatient. In the background, I could hear Cassandra's muffled sobs.

"Lorenzo, I need surgery. Now."

"Isabella, stop causing trouble! Didn't the doctor say it was just a stomach cramp?" he snapped. "Cassandra's in a bad state. I don't have time for your games!"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

He hung up on me.

Games. To him, my life was just a game to get his sympathy.

"Ma'am," the nurse looked at me, worried. "The cost of the surgery…"

"I'll pay for it."

A familiar voice came from the doorway.

I turned my head. Sofia stood there. My friend from prison. The only friend I had left.

She looked like she'd rushed over as soon as she heard.

"Son of a bitch," Sofia swore, her face grim after reading the report. She slapped a black card down for the nurse. "Get her the best doctor, the best medicine. Everything."

The surgery was a success.

Three hours later, I was in the recovery room. Sofia was sitting by my bed, peeling an apple.

"Sofia," I said suddenly. "I need you to do something for me."

"Name it."

"A month from now, I need a new identity. And a passport."

Sofia's hand stilled. She gave me a long, hard look, then nodded.

"Done."

…

An hour later, Lorenzo finally showed up, a guilty look on his face.

"Bella, are you okay? I heard about the surgery."

I looked at him. My heart was a block of ice.

He’d seen the real report. Marco stood behind him, his face pale.

The worry and pain in Lorenzo’s eyes were real. He slammed his fist into the wall.

BAM.

"Bastards!"

He turned back to me, his voice hoarse. "Bella, we looked into it. It was the Viti family doctor… he doctored the report. I'll make him pay."

"And Cassandra?" I asked calmly.

Lorenzo’s expression became complicated.

“She… fell apart when she heard,” he said, forcing the words out. “Threatened to kill herself again. And she used it. It was her second wish.”

My heart sank.

"She wants me to… publicly acknowledge her as my mistress," Lorenzo said, his eyes filled with pain and conflict. "And, until her last wish is granted, I have to stay by her side. Every minute. To protect her until she's stable."

I looked at this man. For the sake of a "wish," he was pushing me away again.

"Bella, trust me," he said, taking my hand. "There's only one left. When this is all over, I swear, I will make it up to you. I'll spend my life making it up to you."