The Don's Sweetheart Sent His Mom to Hell

I stood frozen in the open space near the docks, as if every drop of blood in my body had run cold at that moment.

My husband, Emanuele Uccello, shielded his childhood sweetheart, Melina Costa, with his towering frame. He draped his overcoat over her trembling body.

He was a Don who ruled Regalia's underworld with an iron fist. He was ruthless, merciless, and never one to let his emotions show.

Yet, at that moment, he gave every ounce of his tenderness and patience to the woman in his arms, even though she had just caused an unimaginable disaster.

Melina buried her face in his chest, her voice choked with emotion as she looked utterly remorseful. "This is all my fault, Emanuele. Curiosity got the best of me, and I just wanted to practice defusing a bomb. I didn't mean for this to happen. Had I not touched it, Signora Lombardi would've been fine…"

Right after saying that, she stole a glance at me. An almost imperceptible look of triumph flickered across her eyes.

Emanuele frowned slightly and held her even tighter, his heart aching for her. "Don't be afraid, Melina. This isn't your fault. The bomb my enemies rigged was lethal to begin with. No one could've disarmed it."

Having calmed Melina down, Emanuele finally remembered me.

His tone was full of remorse. "I'm sorry, Bretta. I couldn't save your Madre."

My Madre? Mamma was currently living the good life at a private estate in the South of Bellafonte, enjoying afternoon tea with nothing but blue skies, sparkling seas, and leisure as far as the eye could see. The woman who had perished in the flames was Emanuele's own Madre, Clarissa Fontana.

I stared at the man I had loved for years, pointed at Melina, and burst out laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all. "Emanuele, the person inside the container is your Madre. She killed Clarissa!"

Emanuele scowled, as though he thought I was simply making a scene. "My informant confirmed the hostage was wearing your Madre's cashmere overcoat. I know you're devastated, but Melina didn't do it on purpose. Don't vent all your anger on her."

My breath hitched in my throat. So, he thought Mamma was the one who died.

Clarissa had borrowed Mamma's coat to go out a while back. Based solely on that piece of clothing, everyone had misidentified the hostage.

He continued to defend Melina in an apathetic tone. "Besides, there was barely any time left on the bomb's countdown. Even if Melina hadn't stepped in, there still wouldn't have been nearly enough time for the rescue team to arrive. Your Madre most likely wouldn't have survived anyway."

How conveniently framed. With just a few words, he virtually absolved Melina of her foolish attempt that set off the bomb.

Having said his piece, he reached out to drape his arm over my shoulders. The hand that could easily manipulate global markets and make ruthless decisions had also treated me tenderly countless times in the past.

However, the moment I felt his warm breath, an overwhelming wave of nausea swept through me. I abruptly stepped aside to avoid his touch, my heart turning utterly cold.

The raging flames had reduced everything inside the container to ashes, leaving behind nothing but wreckage. It was impossible to recover even a fragment of Clarissa's personal effects.

My eyes burned as I took in the desolate scene before me. Clarissa was the only person in the Uccello Famiglia who had ever been good to me.

Emanuele was constantly dealing with factions overseas, embroiled in relentless conflicts and negotiations that kept him away for days on end. In that sprawling manor, Clarissa was the only one who always stayed by my side.

Born into old money, she had seen through the bloodshed and brutality of the underworld, yet she had never shown even a trace of the arrogance one might expect from the matriarch of a wealthy Famiglia.

Knowing that I couldn't get used to the refined, cold dishes served at aristocratic banquets, she had specifically instructed the kitchen staff to prepare home-cooked meals.

Merely three days ago, she had still been chatting with me with a smile. "Bretta, as soon as this feud with our enemies is behind us, I'll arrange for a private yacht and have Emanuele take you to Sicelia for a vacation."

Her gentle voice still reverberated in my mind, yet she had been consumed by the flames, leaving me without even the chance to see her one last time.

Emanuele let out a soft sigh before wrapping his arm around my shoulders from behind. For once, he swallowed his pride and softened his tone. "This place is littered with flammable and explosive debris. It's too dangerous to stay here. Plus, this scene will only keep reminding you of her. Let's leave first, alright?"

Melina hurried forward. Tears welled up in her eyes as she put on a pitiful expression. "This is all my fault, Donna Uccello. I'm terribly sorry! If you're hurting and need to vent, feel free to yell at me all you want…"

I looked into her eyes, catching the unmistakable delight in them, and spat out, "Drop the act, Melina! I'm sure you know whether it was premeditated murder or a complete accident."

Melina blanched. Now that her facade was shattered, she flew into a rage and raised her hand, swinging it straight toward my cheek.

I had seen this coming. So, I raised my hand and caught her wrist. Gathering my strength, I prepared to slap her back.

However, the very next second, Emanuele lunged forward and shoved me to the ground. Losing my balance, I stumbled backward and fell onto the ground, which was a field of scorching metallic debris.

Sharp shards sliced into my forearm and knees. In an instant, searing pain spread through my wounds. Tiny beads of blood continued to seep out, soaking through the hem of my dress.

"You've crossed the line, Ombretta!" Emanuele immediately shielded Melina behind him. The guilt that had filled his eyes moments ago was instantly replaced by sheer hostility, and the overwhelming presence of a Don radiated from him.

"Melina came to comfort you with nothing but remorse in her heart, yet you hounded her and even dared to lay a hand on her!"

My body was covered in cuts, and I trembled as I braced myself against the ground and sat up with great effort. I looked up at him, my throat constricted, and bellowed with all the strength I had left, "You've got it all wrong, Emanuele! The person who died in that fire was your own Madre!"

Emanuele's brows knitted together, though he didn't seem surprised in the slightest. He was only profoundly disappointed.

"I can't believe you're still spouting nonsense at this point! My informant personally confirmed that your Madre was the one who was kidnapped! How could he possibly be wrong? I get that you're devastated by the loss of a loved one and that you're having a mental breakdown, but you shouldn't drag my Madre into your excuses just to spite Melina!"

Melina hid behind him, weeping softly. He raised his hand and gently patted her back, soothing her. He refused to spare even a single glance at me as I sat there covered in cuts and wounds.

I stared at the overwhelmingly ironic scene before me, a bitter ache swelling in my chest. The years we had spent together, all the warmth Clarissa had given me, and the lingering affection I had for Emanuele all burned away in that moment.

The pain from my wounds was nothing compared to the dead silence in my heart. Slowly, I forced a desolate smile. "Fine, Emanuele. Since you're convinced that I'm raving like a madwoman and that I've been the one in the wrong all along, there's no need for us to keep dragging this out. Let's get a divorce!"