Chapter 3

Five years earlier, I worked the night shift at a Brooklyn clinic.

The waiting room was packed when Matteo staggered through the doors with blood soaking his shirt.

Two men followed him, both carrying guns.

“Move,” one of them barked.

I looked at Matteo’s wound.

“Put pressure on it and sit down.”

His eyes sharpened.

“Take the bullet out.”

“You’re bleeding on my floor.”

“I said, take it out.”

I pulled on gloves and pointed toward the treatment room.

“Then stop waving that gun around. You’re scaring my patients.”

The room went silent.

One of his men lifted his weapon.

Matteo stopped him with a glance.

For the first time, someone had refused him without begging.

He sat on the table.

I cut open his shirt, cleaned the wound, and removed the bullet while he clenched his jaw.

“You’re lucky it missed an artery,” I said.

“Lucky?”

“You’re alive. Try sounding grateful.”

His mouth twitched.

“You talk too much.”

“You threaten too much.”

That was how we began.

After that night, he kept finding reasons to return.

Sometimes he came with fresh injuries.

Sometimes he only stood outside the clinic after my shift, waiting beside a black car.

I knew what he was by then.

Matteo belonged to a powerful family that controlled half the city’s underground business.

I should have stayed away.

Instead, I fell in love with him.

He never spoke sweetly in front of his men, but he remembered every detail about me.

He knew I hated roses.

He knew I took my coffee without sugar.

He knew when my smile was forced.

One winter evening, he handed me a small black pistol.

My name was engraved along the grip.

“Why are you giving me this?” I asked.

“So you can protect yourself.”

“I’m a nurse.”

“You’re my woman.”

I held the gun tighter.

“I belong to myself.”

His eyes stayed on mine.

“Then keep it for yourself.”

He kissed me before I could answer.

Once, a blizzard buried the city under heavy snow.

My shift ended after midnight, and my shoes filled with slush before we reached the car.

Matteo stopped, bent down, and lifted me into his arms.

“Put me down.”

“You’ll ruin your shoes.”

“I can walk.”

“I know.”

He carried me for three blocks, then four.

By the time we reached the house, snow covered his coat and hair.

My shoes stayed clean.

That man loved me with the same intensity he used to control everyone else.

I believed I would always be the exception.

After the old Boss was assassinated, Matteo took his place before he had time to mourn.

The family pushed him into power, and he accepted it with a cold face and a gun in his hand.

Three days later, we held our wedding in the family chapel.

The ceremony was private, but the entire organization attended.

When Matteo placed the ring on my finger, he whispered, “You’re my Donna now.”

I smiled through my tears.

For years, life felt steady.

He came home to me.

I stood beside him during family dinners.

When enemies threatened us, he kept one hand on my waist and the other near his weapon.

I thought our marriage could survive anything.

Then Sofia came home from overseas.

Everything changed within a week.

Matteo waited three hours at the airport for her.

He forgot my calls.

He ignored my accident.

He dismissed my pregnancy.

When I told him I carried his child, he laughed and accused me of betrayal.

Sofia smiled while she watched him punish me.

Then she ended up trapped in the hospital elevator.

Matteo believed her story without hearing mine.

He locked me in the freezer and left me there for six days.

Now he stood outside the steel door with Sofia beside him.

My soul floated behind them as Luca unlocked the outer bolt.

Sofia clutched Matteo’s arm.

“Be gentle with her,” she murmured. “She has suffered enough.”

Matteo gave her a soft look.

“She’ll apologize before she gets anything else.”

He pulled the door open.

A violent wave of cold air rushed into the hallway.

Matteo lifted his chin.

“Enough punishment, Elena. Come out and apologize to Sofia.”

My body stayed curled against the wall.

My skin had turned purple.

My fingers rested beside the frozen blood from my split knuckles.

Sofia’s breath caught.

Matteo took one step inside.

“Stop pretending.”

He reached for my shoulder.

My body tipped forward and struck the floor with a hard crack.

Sofia screamed.

Matteo froze with his hand suspended above me.

For one second, his face held the same confidence as before.

Then he saw my open eyes.

They stared past him.

Luca whispered, “Donna Elena is dead.”

Matteo dropped to his knees and grabbed my wrist.

The skin beneath his fingers stayed rigid and cold.

“Wake up,” he said.

My soul stood beside the door.

He pressed harder.

“Elena, open your eyes.”

Sofia backed away, covering her mouth.

Matteo pulled me into his arms, but my head fell against his shoulder without a response.

The man who had once carried me through a blizzard held my frozen body against his chest.

This time, he could not keep me warm.