Dumped to Don: My Ex Calls Me Donna

The grand, opulent ballroom was filled with Capos from all over.

Christopher Vittorino, dressed in a sharp gray suit, carried himself with the quiet authority of a man about to become the ruler of an underground empire.

Several Capos gathered around him, showering him with praise for how young and accomplished he was.

This was Christopher's first Famiglia gathering since returning to the country. Everyone tacitly understood that this banquet was held in his honor and that he was very likely to become the next heir to the Famiglia.

Someone noticed the woman standing beside him—Lina Sorenzo.

"You must be Mr. Vittorino's wife. You two look like a match made in heaven," the person commented.

An awkward expression flickered across Lina's face as she nervously twisted the onyx ring on her right hand.

"You've all misunderstood. We're not actually married yet. Chris said we'll get married after he officially takes over the Famiglia business. When the time comes, we hope you will all grace us with your presence."

Hearing this, the entire crowd fell silent.

Everyone knew that Christopher had personally placed that onyx ring—a symbol of status—on Lina's finger five years ago. And yet, after all these years, they still weren't married.

I was surprised too, but I didn't have time to dwell on it at the moment. My son had accidentally dropped his Black Rose Medal—a treasure personally given to him by the Don, Mark Vittorino—on the lawn outside the ballroom.

Right then, he was upstairs in the suite, sobbing his little heart out. I had to find it quickly.

I had just bent down to search when a shrill male voice pierced the air beside me.

"What are you doing? Stop messing around with the lawn. Hurry up and mop the floor in the ballroom instead. All the guests tonight are very important people. If there's even a speck of dust on the floor, you'll be in serious trouble!"

The man then noticed the apron I was wearing, and his expression darkened even more.

"That apron is an embarrassment to our hotel. Change into a proper janitorial uniform immediately!"

This apron was something I had found in the storage closet. It was clean, though a little faded, and it perfectly covered the designer gown my husband had custom-made for me.

My intention was to avoid troubling the hotel staff, but clearly the manager—the name badge indicated his name was Paul Caruso—had mistaken me for part of the cleaning crew.

"I'm not one of your staff," I clarified. "Please step aside. I'm looking for something."

But Paul didn't believe me and tried to quickly usher me away.

In the scuffle, I stumbled straight into the dessert table by the entrance. A seven-tier black truffle cake toppled over and smashed to the ground.

From inside the ballroom, many eyes turned toward the commotion.

Christopher spotted me, looking surprised.

"Isla Sorenzo?"

Paul, assuming we knew each other, immediately broke into a wide smile.

"Mr. Vittorino, is this an acquaintance of yours?"

Christopher instantly regained his composure. Turning his head away, he said coldly, "Not really."

With that, he angled his body away from me and continued chatting with others, deliberately putting distance between us—just like he'd done the night of our engagement party when he'd abandoned me.

Seeing Christopher deny knowing me, Paul's attitude flipped immediately.

"Do you have any idea how expensive that cake is?" he roared, grabbing my arm and pointing at the cake accusingly. "Now you've gone and ruined it! What a walking disaster!"

But all I wanted to do was find the Black Rose Medal quickly so that my son would stop crying.

"I'll have someone take care of the cake," I said sharply. "If you keep blocking me, I won't be so polite anymore."

I forcefully shook him off and headed toward the last patch of lawn to continue searching, but Paul tried to stop me again.

The commotion drew Christopher's attention once again, and he strode over impatiently.

"How much? I'll pay for it. Stop giving her such a hard time."

Then he turned to me, his voice carrying a sliver of warning.

"Isla, I can help you one more time. But please don't try to get my attention using these kinds of tricks again.

"Lina and I will be getting married soon. I know you weren't willing to accept our breakup back then, but feelings can't be forced. I hope you can keep things dignified."

I almost laughed.

"You're overthinking it. Let me congratulate you on your wedding in advance!"

With that, I crouched down and continued searching.

Right then, Lina hurried over too, shooting me a contemptuous glance.

"Isla, you've fallen so low you're working as a cleaner now? Can't you just behave yourself? The only woman Chris will ever marry is me, so stop clinging to him so shamelessly!"

Christopher pulled a black card from his wallet.

"I let you down when I gave the onyx ring to Lina back then. There's enough money on this card for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life. Stop doing such degrading work."

I had no need for his "charity". Firmly refusing him, I turned around and continued my search. But he stubbornly grabbed my right hand—then froze as if he'd been electrocuted.

"Isla, I can't believe you'd actually steal things."