The Don's Regret: Choosing The Wrong Queen

For three years, I was Dante’s shadow, the woman who took a bullet for the heir to New York’s most powerful crime family. I believed him when he said we would rule together.

But while I was bleeding for his empire, he was secretly finalizing a merger to marry Sofia, a pristine Mafia Princess.

I found the encrypted report on his desk. It didn't describe me as his partner. It called me a "useful shield" and a "necessary diversion" to protect his real bride.

When I tried to walk away, he didn't let me go. He humiliated me.

Worse, when Sofia staged a fake attack and blamed me to cover her own lies, Dante didn't ask for proof.

He dragged me out of my hospital bed, fresh from surgery, and hauled me to the estate fountain.

He shoved my head underwater, drowning the woman who had once saved his life, while Sofia watched from the balcony with a smirk.

"You touched what is mine!" he screamed, choosing a liar over the soldier who loved him.

I left that night, bleeding and broken, vanishing into the storm without a trace.

Two years later, I am a celebrated artist in Paris, and the man standing beside me looks at me like I am the sun, not a shield.

Dante stands outside my gallery in the freezing rain, looking ruined, begging for a second chance.

He tells me he knows the truth now. He tells me he loves me.

I look at him, then at the engagement ring on my finger—one given by a man who never had to break me to love me.

"I didn't erase our history, Dante," I say, rolling up the car window.

"I survived it."

Chapter 1

I stood there, clutching the encrypted tablet that contained the proof of my three years of slavery, realizing that while I was bleeding myself dry for his empire, he was picking out engagement rings for another woman.

The device felt heavy in my hand.

Heavier, even, than the gun I had used to save his life three years ago.

That night was etched into my skin like a brand.

Dante, the heir to the most powerful crime family in New York, had been cornered.

I hadn't thought. I hadn't hesitated.

I had threw myself in front of him.

The bullet meant for his heart had grazed my ribs instead.

The phantom scent of gunpowder and expensive cologne flooded my senses.

I remembered the way he had looked at me afterwards.

It wasn't love.

It was interest.

He had touched my cheek with bloodstained fingers and made a promise.

He told me that if I handled the West Coast expansion-a suicide mission for anyone else-I would earn my place.

He said I would be the Don's wife.

He said we would rule together.

And like a fool, I believed him.

I spent three years living out of suitcases.

I dodged federal agents and rival cartels.

I laundered his money and secured his shipping routes.

I did it all with his ring on a chain around my neck, hidden under my shirt like a talisman.

I thought it was a test of loyalty.

I thought I was proving I was strong enough to stand beside him.

I was wrong.

The message on the tablet was from his father, the current Don.

It was a detailed report on the merger with the Genovese family.

It outlined the wedding arrangements between Dante and Sofia Genovese.

Sofia.

The Mafia Princess.

She was untouched.

She was pure.

She was royalty.

The report called my mission a "necessary diversion."

It said I was a "useful shield" to draw attention away while the real alliance was formed.

It said I was disposable.

My breath hitched in my throat.

The room started to spin.

I felt like I was drowning on dry land.

I looked at the date on the file.

He had started planning this merger a week after he sent me away.

The whole time he was whispering promises to me over encrypted lines, he was courting her.

I was just the dog guarding the gate while he let the real mistress into the house.

A jagged, physical pain ripped through my chest.

It was sharper than the bullet wound ever was.

I grabbed the tablet and the ring from around my neck.

I walked to the fireplace in the library.

The flames were high and hungry.

I looked at the ring one last time.

It was a simple band.

He had told me the real diamond would come later, for safety.

It was a lie.

Everything was a lie.

I threw the ring into the fire.

I watched the metal darken and disappear into the ash.

Then I threw the tablet in.

The plastic cracked and melted.

The smoke smelled toxic.

It smelled like my wasted youth.

I didn't cry.

I couldn't.

The shock had frozen everything inside me.

I turned around and saw my reflection in the window.

I looked like a ghost.

My hair was wet from the rain outside.

My eyes were hollow.

I realized I couldn't stay here.

If I stayed, I would die.

Maybe not by a bullet, but by the sheer weight of his betrayal.

I had to leave.

I had to cut it off.

I ran to the door, my heart pounding against my ribs.

I opened it and ran into the storm.

The rain hit my face like little needles.

It felt good.

It felt real.

I was running from the only home I had known for ten years.

I was running from the man I had worshipped.

I was running for my life.

But as I reached the heavy iron gates of the estate, the headlights of a car blinded me.

It was a sleek black limousine.

The window rolled down.

Dante was sitting there.

He looked perfect.

He looked dangerous.

He looked at me standing in the rain, soaking wet and shivering.

He didn't look concerned.

He looked annoyed.

"Get in the car, Elena," he said, his voice low and smooth. "You're making a scene."