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A FAILED ESCAPE
Last Updated:
2025-12-04 19:26:17
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STOLEN BY THE DON I PROMISE
"Close the door," Matteo said quietly. "And sit down; you're going to want to be sitting for this." "How is that possible?" Luca demanded. "How could they not know?" "Closed adoption, sealed records, a system that didn't track siblings properly back then," Matteo explained. "The Marchesis wanted Serena to be completely theirs, with no connection to her past; and Sienna was never told because the foster system either didn't know or didn't care to inform her." Luca sank back into his chair, his mind struggling to comprehend the magnitude of this revelation. "So somewhere in this city, there's a woman who looks exactly like Sienna, who has the same DNA, the same birthday—but they've lived completely parallel lives without any knowledge of each other." "Until six months ago, yes," Matteo said. "But then Stephano Marchesi died—sudden heart attack; after his death, his brother Carlo took over guardianship of Serena and Ginevra, brought them both into his household in Milan." "Carl
STOLEN BY THE DON SECRETS OF THE PAST
Luca arrived at Matteo's office in fifteen minutes, driving himself instead of waiting for his usual driver; something in his oldest friend's tone had set off alarm bells, had made the twenty-minute wait feel impossible. He took the stairs two at a time, bypassing the elevator, his mind racing through possibilities; what could Matteo have found that required an in-person conversation? What truth was so devastating it couldn't be shared over a secure phone line? Luca did as instructed, noting the careful way Matteo had organized everything, as if preparing for a presentation that would require evidence, proof of claims too extraordinary to believe without documentation. "Just tell me," Luca said, his patience already frayed. "Whatever you found, whatever the truth is—I need to know." "The woman you have at the estate—Sienna—she's not who you thought she was," Matteo began carefully. "But the truth is far more complicated than a simple case of mistaken identity." He pushed for
STOLEN BY THE DON COMPLICATED
"So she has no idea," Matteo said slowly. "She doesn't know she's adopted, doesn't know about Sienna, believes she's always been Serena Marchesi, daughter of Stephano and Ginevra.""Exactly," Elena confirmed. "And Sienna, for her part, has no idea she has a twin; she was too young when separated to remember, and the foster system never told her—they probably didn't even track it properly given how disorganized things were back then."Matteo sat back, processing this revelation; two identical girls, separated at birth, living completely parallel lives without any knowledge of each other's existence—one in wealth, one in poverty, both shaped by circumstances neither had chosen."There's something else," Elena said, her expression growing even more serious. "Something you need to know about what happened to Serena's adoptive parents.""What?""Stephano Marchesi died six months ago," Elena said quietly. "Sudden heart attack; Ginevra was devastated, but here's the interesting part—after hi
STOLEN BY THE DON THE INVESTIGATION
Matteo sat in his private office three blocks from the estate, surrounded by files and photographs spread across his desk like pieces of a puzzle that refused to fit together properly. He'd been digging for weeks now, following threads that seemed to lead nowhere, chasing ghosts through records that had been deliberately obscured.The more he uncovered about Sienna DeLuca, the more questions emerged and the more concerned he became about what Luca was walking into.His phone buzzed; he glanced at the screen, seeing a message from one of his contacts in social services.Found something. You're not going to like it.Matteo's jaw tightened, he'd learned long ago that when his contacts said he wouldn't like something, it usually meant the situation was far worse than anticipated.Twenty minutes later, Elena Russo walked into his office, a worn folder tucked under her arm. She'd worked in Naples' child welfare system for thirty years, had seen every kind of tragedy the city could produce.
STOLEN BY THE DON TRANSCENDED POSSESSION
"Then we're all living on borrowed time," I said, now standing directly in front of him. "But imprisoning people doesn't change that; it just makes the time we have feel like a sentence instead of a gift." He stared at me, something vulnerable and desperate in his expression. "I don't know how to do this differently; I don't know how to care without consuming, how to want without taking - it's all I've ever known." "Then learn," I said simply. "Figure out how to want my happiness instead of just my presence; how to love without possession." "Love," he repeated the word like it was foreign, dangerous. "Is that what this is? This obsession that keeps me awake, that makes me willing to destroy everything just to keep you close?" "I don't know what this is," I admitted honestly. "But whatever it is, it's consuming both of us and we either find a way to transform it into something less toxic, or it will destroy us completely." He reached up slowly, giving me time to pull away, an
STOLEN BY THE DON UNWANTED COMFORT
Three nights had passed since Luca gave me freedom within the estate.Three nights of sleeping alone in his massive bed while he disappeared to other parts of the house, maintaining the careful distance he'd imposed after the kiss.I should have been grateful for the space, for the respite from his overwhelming presence; instead, I found myself lying awake, listening for footsteps that never came, wondering where he was and hating myself for caring.The art studio had become my refuge during the day; I painted obsessively, creating canvases filled with darkness and light, violence and beauty, trying to exorcise the complicated emotions churning inside me. Tonight, exhaustion finally claimed me around midnight; I fell into deep sleep, the kind that comes after days of emotional turmoil, heavy and dreamless.Until a sound woke me.At first, I thought I'd imagined it - a distant cry, muffled and distorted but then it came again, louder this time, unmistakably real.Someone was screaming
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