Married to the Don? No, Thanks

I left the banquet hall and led Ryan down the bustling shopping street, hoping to get him some ice cream. He stopped crying as he ate.

I ruffled his hair, which was brown, just like Leander's.

"What do you think about going abroad, sweetheart?" I asked.

Ryan looked up at me, his voice barely a whisper. "What about Papà?"

He was only a child, forgetting things as fast as they came.

I gently wiped the ice cream from the corner of his mouth. "He'll stay here as the don, and from now on, that's what you'll call him. He's not your Papà anymore."

Ryan lowered his head, tears streaming down his cheeks once more. I could tell he couldn't stand the thought of leaving Leander—no one could easily accept being abandoned by their father.

I hesitated, unsure whether I should plead with Leander to let Ryan stay, when Ryan squeezed my hand and said firmly, "Mamma, I'll go with you. But can I spend one more birthday with Papà?"

I couldn't bear to hurt him anymore, so I pulled him close and nodded. "Okay."

Ryan's birthday fell on December 23rd. I reminded Leander two days in advance, telling him there was no need to prepare anything. He only needed to come home and spend time with Ryan.

Though Leander and I had grown apart, I still wanted Ryan to be happy.

Ryan woke up early on his birthday, put on his little suit, and stood by the window, staring at the front gate.

"Mamma, Papà is coming for my birthday, right?" Ryan asked nervously.

"Of course, he is."

I adjusted his collar, even though I felt just as anxious as he did. I'd already sent Leander five text reminders, but he hadn't replied to any of them.

The ice cream cake on the table was beginning to melt. Ryan lowered his head, unwrapped the candles, and gently placed them on the cake. There were six in all.

After a long pause, Ryan murmured as if he had just realized something. "Papà isn't coming, is he?"

He even tried to comfort me when he saw the apologetic look on my face. "It's okay, Mamma. I'm happy you're here to celebrate with me. He must be really busy being the don, so we shouldn't bother him."

It was the first time Ryan had called Leander "don"—respectful, yet distant. In that moment, he seemed to grow up, accepting that Leander would never care for him. But his reddened eyes betrayed the hurt he was trying to hide.

He was only six, after all.

Upon seeing Ryan's sadness, masked by false bravery, filled me with such fury that it made my chest ache. I grabbed my phone, ready to call Leander and give him a piece of my mind.

Just then, a notification popped up. It was a message from Leander. "Come to Beaumont Manor."

I showed the message to Ryan. "See, Ryan? He didn't forget your birthday, after all."

Ryan's face lit up with a bright smile, and he pulled me toward the door.

The whole ride there, Ryan kept wondering what surprise Leander had in store for him. He kept smoothing out his clothes, muttering to himself, "Papà is the most powerful mafia don in Westrael. I'm his son. I can't embarrass him."

Before long, we arrived at Beaumont Manor, and my smile froze. A red carpet lined with roses stretched all the way from the entrance. This wasn't exactly the kind of decor one would expect at a child's birthday party.

Of course, Ryan didn't notice at all. He happily opened the car door, jumped out, and dashed inside. I stayed close behind, my pulse racing, desperately hoping I was wrong about my fears.

The party was in full swing on the lawn, with an impressive champagne tower and a three-tiered buttercream cake on display.

Ryan's eyes lit up the moment he spotted Leander by the cake. "Papà!"

Ryan rushed forward, excited, and threw his arms around Leander. But Leander didn't return the embrace. Instead, he shoved Ryan away in shock, demanding, "What are you doing here?"

I felt my heart drop then.

"Isn't this Don Beaumont and Ms. Fowler's engagement party? I heard both families were here. How could he suddenly have a grown son? What an embarrassment for them!"

The murmurs around us grew louder, closing in like a tightening noose.

Leander's expression darkened as he took a few steps back, his glare locking onto Ryan. "What did you just call me?"

Terrified, Ryan froze under Leander's fury, his tears welling up but refusing to fall. Leander had taught him that a man in the mafia must never cry.

After a long pause, Ryan spoke with a trembling voice. "Don Beaumont."