The Don's Heir Faked His Death, So I Died for Real

Matteo's hand froze on my shoulder.

“What did you say?”

The burning in my throat seared its way down into my chest.

The pain was almost unbearable.

I held on to the railing until my fingertips went white.

“I said call off the wedding.”

Isabella looked at me innocently.

“Come on, Layla. You're not seriously upset, are you?

“I was only helping Matteo figure out whether you really love him or just want to be the next Donna.

“Well, you passed! You love him enough to die for him. Isn't that something to celebrate?”

His friends burst out laughing as soon as she said it.

“Matteo spent three whole days here just to pull this off.

“Isabella started planning the whole thing a week ago.

“You ought to thank them. Otherwise, how would any of us know you really loved him?”

I looked up at Matteo, my voice shaking. “You were near the dock this whole time?”

“In the security room at the estate across the water.”

He said it so casually, as if the 72 hours I'd spent kneeling in the punishment room and the Don pressing a gun to my forehead meant nothing.

For him, I had knelt until my knees bled. I had even given up my parents' keepsake just to see him one last time.

All that time, he'd been sitting comfortably in the estate across the water, watching me fall apart just to prove how much I loved him.

“I waited for you for three days.”

I looked down at the wounds on my knees. They had barely scabbed over, and climbing over the railing had torn them open again.

Matteo gave them a careless glance.

“It's over now. When we get back, I'll have my private doctor treat your knees.”

Before he could say another word, Isabella let out a little cry, clutched her knee, and leaned heavily against him.

“Matteo, I think I ran too fast. My knee's acting up again.”

Matteo let go of me immediately, turned to steady her, and dropped to one knee to look at her leg.

“Can you stand?” he asked gently.

“No.”

Isabella's voice turned tearful. “What am I going to do? What if I can never walk again?”

Matteo swept Isabella up into his arms.

“Don't talk like that. I'm taking you to the hospital.”

As they left, Isabella made sure to glance back and smirk at me.

Only then did I notice she was wearing the diamond tiara that was supposed to be mine.

I called after him, “Matteo.”

He turned back, clearly irritated.

“What now?”

“That tiara. You designed it for me.”

Matteo glanced at the top of Isabella's head and frowned.

“She's only borrowing it for a few days. She helped me find out if your feelings were real. The least I can do is reward her.”

The day before, Giulia Ferrara, Matteo's mother and the Donna, had thrown that same tiara in my face. She screamed that I wasn't good enough for Matteo or the tiara, and that I had killed her son.

Now Isabella ran her fingers over the tiara, giving me a smug look.

She was wearing the tiara Matteo had designed for me. Soon, she'd have an identical copy of my custom-made wedding dress, too.

Maybe even my husband wouldn't be mine alone.

I bent down and picked the cashmere wrap up off the ground.

The moment my fingertips touched it, my skin broke out in an itchy red rash.

He remembered that Isabella loved cashmere, but he'd forgotten I was severely allergic to wool. Even the slightest touch gave me hives.

The taste of blood in my throat kept getting stronger. I looked up at him.

“Matteo, what if I really had died here today?”

Isabella burst out laughing.

“You didn't even make it over the railing. How would you have died?”

Matteo laughed too, as if I were being silly.

“Stop trying to scare everyone with all this talk about dying. Go home and get ready. I'll come get you for the wedding later.

“You're the only woman I'll ever marry.”

He carried Isabella to the armored car, and his friends followed.

Just before the door closed, I heard Isabella's voice. “You promised me a dress exactly like hers, made just for me. I want to have a whole photo shoot wearing it.”

The black car disappeared into the night.

My legs finally gave out, and I slid down against the railing, collapsing onto the ground.

Blood trickled from my lips onto the white skirt of my wedding dress, leaving a large, spreading stain.

The phone in my pocket buzzed. It was a text from Matteo.

“Be good. The driver will come back for you in a bit.”

“Isabella's in bad shape. I'm taking her to the hospital first.”

Above it was the message he'd sent me before the crash.

“Layla, your tiara's ready. Wait until I get back. I want to put it on you myself. You're going to be the most beautiful bride.”

Footsteps approached. It was one of the family's men on duty at the dock.

The moment he saw the blood on my lips, his face went pale, and he radioed for an ambulance.

As the medics came running with a stretcher, my phone rang. It was Matteo.

With the last of my strength, I swiped to answer. But it was Isabella on the other end, her voice sweet and giggly.

“Matteo's getting me checked in. He wants to know why you're ignoring his messages. You're not still mad, are you?”

I opened my mouth, but blood came out before any words could.

Before I could answer, Isabella's voice turned mocking. “Layla, don't tell me you're planning to play the victim just to make Matteo feel guilty.

“Save it. Tonight, he's mine.”

She hung up.

As the medics cut away the sleeve of my wedding dress, one of them bent over me. “Did you swallow something poisonous? What was it? How long ago? Does your family know?”

Looking out at the calm sea, I slowly closed my eyes.

“He doesn't need to know.”