The Missing Donna His Unforgivable Betrayal

I sent my driver and security detail back to the estate, then wandered through the city alone.

By the time I reached Times Square, rain had soaked through my coat.

On the largest screen above the intersection, a familiar face appeared.

Mine.

It was a replay of the family interview we had filmed six months ago, right after I learned I was pregnant.

Father stood beneath the crystal chandeliers of the Moretti estate, holding up a flawless blue diamond he had bought at auction.

“The Heart of the Sea will belong to my first grandchild,” he told the reporter. “Its price means nothing. What matters is that it stays in the family.”Beside him, Dante tightened his arm around my waist.

“Elena deserves all the credit,” he said, looking at me as if I were the only woman in the world. “She’s giving me a baby. I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure they’re both safe and loved.”

The image froze on us smiling at each other.

A headline appeared beneath it.

NEW YORK’S MOST POWERFUL FAMILIES CELEBRATE THEIR NEXT HEIR

Rain ran down my face, warm where it mixed with my tears.

My phone rang.

Dante.

Once, I would have answered before the first ring ended.

This time, I stared at his name until the final ring.

Then I accepted the call.

Dante didn’t speak.

Instead, men laughed in the background.

One of his capos must have picked up his phone by mistake while Dante was out of the room.

His men were speaking in the low, amused tones of people certain their Don couldn’t hear them.

“I still can’t believe the boss is sleeping with Bianca,” one man said. “He worships Elena.”

“That’s the crazy part,” another replied. “Elena is his wife, his Donna, the love of his life—and he still keeps her half sister in a penthouse across town.”

A third man laughed. “Bianca’s carrying his child now. He can’t exactly walk away.”

Their laughter cut straight through me.

“So what’s his plan?” someone asked.

“Keep Elena at home and Bianca hidden away. As long as Elena never finds out, the boss gets everything he wants.”

My hand tightened around the phone.

“Like mother, like daughter,” another man added. “Sofia took Don Moretti. Now Bianca has her hands on Don Russo.”

The laughter on the other end died abruptly.

Then a cold voice cut through the room.

“Who touched my phone?”

A second later,Dante’s voice came through the phone, suddenly gentle.“Elena? Tesoro, are you there?”

I pressed my lips together, but a broken breath escaped.

His tone sharpened with concern. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Did something happen to the baby?”

He sounded terrified.

Once, I would have never doubted his love for me.

Now all I could think about was him standing beside Bianca for that family portrait

Something inside me went still.

There was nothing left to confront him about. I had already seen the truth with my own eyes.

“Elena, talk to me.”

Before I could answer, Bianca’s voice drifted from somewhere nearby.

“Babe, my back is killing me. I think the baby’s kicking again.”

There was a sudden rustle, as if Dante had covered the phone.

When he spoke again, his voice was carefully composed.

“Something came up,” he said quickly. “I’ll be home later, all right?”

He ended the call before I could respond.

By the time I returned to the Russo estate, my wet clothes had dried against my skin.

I sat in the dark living room for hours.

The front doors finally opened after sunset.

Father and Dante walked in together, speaking in low voices.

The moment they saw me sitting in the dark, their conversation stopped.

“Elena.” Father came toward me with several cream-colored boxes. “I had these pregnancy creams made for you in Switzerland. Everything is organic.”

Dante crouched in front of me and lifted one of my swollen ankles onto his knee.

“Why didn’t you finish your appointment?” His thumbs moved gently over my skin. “Were you angry because we left? I’ll have the head of obstetrics come here tomorrow.”

They spoke with such practiced tenderness that I almost wondered whether the video had been some cruel illusion.

My silence made Dante glance at Father.

Father gave the smallest shake of his head.

They were checking whether I knew.

I reached for the folder beside me.

“My attorney finished the baby’s trust documents,” I said. “He needs your signature.”

Dante relaxed.

The Russo lawyers placed papers in front of him every day—shell companies, property transfers, import contracts, trusts.

I had marked the signature page with a yellow tab, just as his consigliere always did.

Maybe my silence had unsettled him.

Or maybe guilt made him desperate to please me.

Either way, he didn’t read a word.

He simply took the pen and signed.

Father chuckled. “So now my daughter only asks her husband for things?”

“Everything I have is already yours,” Dante said.

He handed the folder back, lifted my left hand, and kissed the wedding ring he had given me.

Their phones rang at the same time.

Father checked his screen and exchanged a quick glance with Dante.

“There’s trouble down at the harbor.”

Dante rose and pressed a kiss to my hair.

“We’ll handle it. Stay inside and rest.”

They hurried out.

As Father pulled on his coat, a box identical to the ones he had given me slipped out and fell to the floor.

So the gifts hadn’t been just for me.

He had simply bought two and expected me never to know.

Dante quickly bent to pick it up, and his collar shifted.

A fresh lipstick mark stained the skin beneath it.

It wasn’t mine.

I was no longer Father’s only daughter, just as I was no longer Dante’s only woman.

The door closed behind them, leaving me alone in the silent house.

I opened the folder.

Beneath Dante’s signature were his consent to an uncontested divorce and an agreement granting me sole custody of our unborn baby.

He had signed both because he believed I would never use them against him.

Because he believed I would never leave.

I wiped the last tear from my face and called my attorney.

“Get everything ready,” I said. “I’m leaving New York in seven days.”