Imprisoned by the Don I Called Mine

Gunshots echoed down the street.

People scrambled, screaming, a human stampede.

Lorenzo didn't hesitate. He wrapped Cassandra in his arms, holding her tight.

"Don't be scared. I'm here," his voice was so gentle it could break your heart.

Then he ran with her toward the exit.

He never looked back. Not once.

I stood there, watching them disappear through the door.

He made the same choice he made three years ago.

The crowd surged toward the exit like a tidal wave. Someone shoved me hard. I fell to the floor.

A stampede of feet. A boot connected with my ribs. The sharp point of a stiletto heel ground into the back of my hand. Pain, white-hot and blinding, flared through me. My body, barely healed, screamed in protest.

"Help… me…" I tried to call out, but the sound was swallowed by the panic.

No one stopped. No one even looked down.

I was like a stray dog, curled up and abandoned in the corner of the shop.

The taste of blood filled my mouth. My consciousness started to fade.

The last thing I saw was Cassandra's face, looking back at me through the car window.

She was smiling.

When I woke up, it was the same damn ceiling.

The VIP room in the family's private clinic.

Lorenzo was sitting by the bed, his face etched with guilt.

"Bella, you're awake."

I turned my head to look at him but said nothing.

"The doctor said your stitches tore," he said carefully. "You have some new bruises, too..."

"Where's Cassandra?" My voice was a raw whisper.

Lorenzo's face tightened. "She… she was in shock. She's resting now."

Resting.

While I was lying in a hospital bed.

“Bella, listen,” he started, his voice low. “It was chaos. I had to get Cassandra to safety—she’s fragile. I was coming right back for you, I swear.”

Isn't well?

I looked down at my own bandaged arms. I almost laughed.

It was pretty clear who wasn't well.

"But just as I got her in the car, I heard more gunshots from inside," he went on. "I wanted to run back, but my men said it was too dangerous…"

Too dangerous?

For his precious Cassandra, but not for me?

"Bella, say something," Lorenzo pleaded, his voice desperate. "I never meant to leave you behind…"

I just looked at him. The man I once thought I would spend my life with. I stared for a long time. So long that the desperation in his eyes started to turn to frustration. Then I spoke.

"I understand."

Just those two words.

All the excuses, all the apologies he had prepared, they all turned to dust. He just stared at me, like he didn't understand.

"Bella…"

"I want to see Nonna," I cut him off again. It was the only thing I wanted. "Now."

A difficult look crossed Lorenzo's face. "Bella, Nonna's heart has been acting up. The doctor said she shouldn't have visitors…"

The same excuse.

"As soon as you're better, I'll arrange it, okay?" he asked, testing the waters.

I closed my eyes. I had no more responses for him.

Lorenzo sat by the bed for a long time. The silence was suffocating. Finally, he stood up.

"I'll go get you something to eat."

He had just reached the door when his phone rang.

"Lorenzo…" It was Cassandra's voice, thick with tears. "I had a nightmare. I heard the gunshots again… I'm so scared…"

Lorenzo's face instantly filled with worry and pain. "Don't be scared. I'm coming right now."

"But… Isabella…"

"She's fine," Lorenzo said, glancing back at me, his voice low. "You need me more than she does."

You need me more than she does.

He hurried out of the room, rushing to the person who "needed him more."

I opened my eyes and stared at the bright, sterile light on the ceiling. My heart was a stone.

The next evening, the news was on.

A breaking story, an explosion that rocked all the channels.

"...sources have confirmed that the current Don of the Viti family, Antonio Viti, seized power by murdering his own father..."

My hand tightened on the remote.

In the world of the mafia, killing your own father was the ultimate sin, worse than being a rat. It was a crime that shook the very foundation of blood and legacy.

If this was proven, the Viti family would tear itself apart.

My phone rang. It was Sofia.

"Isabella, did you see the news? The Viti family's dirty laundry is finally out in the open!" she said with a cold laugh. "This is going to be good. That bitch is finished this time."

Not long after I hung up, my hospital room door was thrown open.

Lorenzo stormed in, radiating a cold fury.

His eyes were bloodshot, his face a mask of uncontrolled rage.

"Isabella!" he roared, like a cornered animal, stalking to my bedside. "Was this you?"