The Donna’s Final Gift

Back at the penthouse, I froze. Cassius was personally opening a vintage bottle of Romanée-Conti.

He hated the smell of liquor in the penthouse, yet here he was holding a decanter.

But this wasn't for me.

Just yesterday, Bianca had casually whined about "missing Burgundy wine."

For that one comment, the great Don flew a private jet to a French vineyard just to bring back this rare bottle.

Cassius turned and handed me a glass of the blood-red wine.

"It's our third anniversary. I opened it just for you." His tone sounded like charity. "Drink."

I stared at the swirling wine, my stomach turning.

He completely forgot that two years ago, I took a bullet to the liver saving him from an assassination. The doctor strictly forbade alcohol. It would trigger blinding pain.

The one who actually loved to drink was Bianca.

Swallowing the bitter chill in my chest, I kept a straight face and pushed the glass away.

"What?" He frowned, annoyed. Like I was being ungrateful.

I didn't argue. I just pulled two black folders from my bag and tossed them onto the marble island.

"My stomach hurts. Just sign these first." I forced my voice to stay steady.

They were business transfer papers.

But hidden under the thick inventory lists was our divorce agreement.

Cassius glanced at the cover and tugged at his tie impatiently. "I hate talking business at home. You've been managing these properties fine. There's no rush."

He grabbed a gold pen from the table, ready to just sign and get it over with.

Right as the pen touched the paper, his secure phone rang.

It was Bianca's custom ringtone.

Cassius's eyes changed instantly.

He stood up so fast he knocked over a heavy statue next to the table.

The metal base smashed right into my calf. I gasped in pain.

A bone-crushing ache hit me. Blood seeped through my stockings and dripped onto the carpet. It looked awful.

But Cassius was glued to his phone screen, completely blind to my bleeding.

He turned his back, answered the call, and spoke with a sickeningly jealous tenderness.

"Bianca, what's wrong? Don't cry, I'm here."

I stood there, watching my leg bleed. I couldn't breathe. The blood froze in my veins.

Fifteen solid minutes.

He patiently coaxed the woman on the phone, entirely forgetting his bleeding wife behind him.

When he hung up, he didn't even look at the papers. He just grabbed the pen and signed the last page.

Then, he smoothly pulled his gun and slipped it into his shoulder holster.

"Tell the maids to clean the carpet. Go patch yourself up." He strode toward the door. "Bianca's scared being alone in her apartment. I'm not coming home tonight."

The door slammed shut, locking all the cruelty and lies outside.

I looked at the closed door and let out a bleak laugh.

He didn't even know that what he just blindly signed were my divorce papers.

I grabbed some tissues and pressed hard on my leg. The pain kept me perfectly sharp.

Twenty-five years ago, the Family took me in as an orphan. I went through hellish training just to be the shadow and meat shield for Bianca, the real Mafia princess.

She soaked up everyone's love at the estate, while I dragged myself through the mud for her.

But later, a DNA test ripped the family secret open.

I was the true bloodline. Bianca was a bastard, swapped by a nanny.

When she found out, my mother came to me with red eyes. She said Bianca grew up spoiled, and if word got out she wasn't the real princess, she'd be ruined.

Covered in scars, I was forced to suck it up.

Then, right before her engagement to Cassius, Bianca met a Wall Street hotshot in Hawaii.

The night before the party, she bailed on the wedding in the name of "true love" and ran off to the West Coast with her jewelry.

Facing a fatal broken alliance, the Family put a gun to my head. They forced me—the daughter who gave up everything for them—to take her place.

I married him.

I spent three years running his businesses and taking bullets for him. I thought I could warm his cold heart.

He did give me absolute power and trust. I was foolish enough to think that was love.

Until recently. Bianca got dumped by the Wall Street guy, and came running back in tears.

Cassius was instantly hooked again.

To keep her happy, Cassius let her flip through the Family's secret ledgers—books only I was allowed to touch. When she got cornered by the press over a scandal, he used the Mafia to lock down the city, leaving me alone to face the D.A.'s interrogations.

I closed my eyes. All I could see was what I walked in on at the estate gardens recently.

Bianca was kissing him, giggling. "When are you going to kick her out? It's been three years. Don't tell me you actually fell for her?"

Cassius's reply was colder than the meat locker.

"Impossible. She's just a handy knife. Good for taking bullets. Once I take back the properties she manages, you'll be the only Donna by my side."

A knife.

My three years. My life. All for those three words.

A tear finally hit the back of my hand, but it would be the last one I ever shed for him.

Ledger Entry 66: He left me to die.

I'd had enough.

I tossed the bloody tissue in the trash and locked the signed divorce papers in the safe.

Then, I opened a drawer, pulled out a clean satellite phone, and dialed a number I hadn't called in three years.

"Nikolai... Cassius and I will be done in a month. When the time comes, get me out of here, okay?"