The Don Who Never Meant What He Said

By the time I reached the Sterling estate, I was nearly frozen through.

I sipped hot tea and looked around the place I had once called home.

Everywhere I looked, Daphne had left her mark.

“Scarlett, these are the Cohibas Daphne gave me. I like them. Put them away for me.”

“Scarlett, the cufflinks Daphne gave me. Do they look good?”

“This is the candle Daphne recommended. She said the scent makes her think of me.”

Every time it started a fight, the need to control me only sharpened in his eyes. He liked watching me lose myself over him.

It was as if the more I suffered, the more it proved I loved him.

And his answer was always the same easy line.

“Scarlett, Daphne is just my assistant. Don't lose the Donna's composure.”

Worn down day after day, I stopped caring just as he’d wanted.

I had even been ready to give up the Donna's seat.

When the tea had warmed me through, I started packing my things.

Just as I was ready to leave, Raphael came back.

He reeked of liquor, leaning his weight uselessly against Daphne.

When he saw me, he shoved Daphne off on instinct and forced himself to stand straight.

He started to say something, then he saw the suitcase at my feet, and his whole body locked.

At the same moment, his thoughts were roaring.

[Scarlett, why are you packing? Are you really leaving?]

[I was wrong. I shouldn't have brought Daphne to Thanksgiving. I only wanted to make you jealous, to be sure you still loved me.]

[Don't go, I'm begging you, don't go!]

His face was white and his thoughts were an endless plea, and the words out of his mouth cut deeper than ever.

“Scarlett, I'd think hard if I were you. The women who'd kill to be the Donna of the Sterling family could line up from Sicily to New York.”

“And you? A woman I've thrown away. You think your family will still shelter you the way they used to?”

His arrogance was a pair of pitiless hands, and they strangled the last scrap of hope I had left.

Once it was fully gone, I felt almost light.

I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Fine. Then I won't keep you from picking your new Donna.”

His pupils shrank. Right in front of me, he pulled Daphne into his arms.

“There's no need to pick. I'll marry Daphne.”

“She's gentler than you, and more obedient. More than that, she's younger. Not useless like you.”

He stared into my eyes and said each word slowly. “She can give me an heir.”

My breath caught, and the wound in me that had finally scarred over split open again.

Everyone knew the child was my rawest wound.

Six years ago, to save Raphael from a rival family's assassin, I took a bullet for him.

It went into my womb, and after that a child became almost impossible.

But I wanted one so badly.

To get pregnant, I saw every famous doctor in the country and tried every method there was.

In desperation, I even went to a medium.

And still my belly stayed flat, as flat and withered as the heart he had worn down to nothing.

Raphael understood all of it better than anyone, and he still chose to gut me with the child.

My eyes went red. “Raphael, you really are a hopeless bastard.”

Seeing me cry, his body flinched, and he moved toward me on instinct.

But Daphne suddenly caught his arm and said softly, “But Donna, the Don is only stating a fact.”

“Seven years of marriage. You really haven't given him an heir.”

“Any other man would have dumped you long ago, but the Don put up with you for seven whole years!”

“He never said a word, and you're the one asking for a divorce. Aren't you being selfish? You don't spare a thought for how hard this is on him.”

Raphael's feet, which had started toward me, stopped.

He lifted his chin, jaw tight, and looked down at me from above.

So he had already bought into Daphne's absurd claims.

“Scarlett, it seems I've been too good to you.”

His eyes slid to my suitcase.

I had no time to react.

He had already signaled the bodyguard at the door.

The man stepped up and slit the expensive leather case open with a knife.

My things spilled across the floor.

Raphael nudged through them with his foot, then bent down and picked up a velvet box.

It held my mother's legacy, the Star of Florence.

He tossed the velvet box up and down nonstop with his left hand, jabbing a finger straight at my nose with his right.

“Scarlett Hale, do I need to remind you? I paid thirty million to win this diamond back for you.”

The color drained from my face.