All Chapters of Promised To The Don: The Runaway Mafia Princess: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ Don Arturo sent a whole crew, a couple of nurses, a makeup artist, and a clean, soft dress. My freedom was going to be a staged production. The moment the nurses came in, they got right to work. They put cold compresses on my face to try and bring down the worst of the swelling and the angry red skin. They smeared soothing creams on the flaky, tear-burned patches. Then came the bath. Getting me out of bed was pure hell. Every minute movement, shifting my weight, swinging my legs, sent a spike of pain through my cracked ribs. I couldn't move my injured right shoulder at all, so they had to maneuver me like I was made of glass. The warm water felt amazing on my skin, washing away the stench of hospital soap and dried blood. They didn't just wash me, they shaved, groomed, and worked on me like I was being prepared for my wedding night, not for a handoff to my brother. It was surreal. They were covering up the evidence, trying to make the collateral look undamaged. Do

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ I was staring at the ceiling, but the voice in my head was screaming all the things the sedative wouldn't let me say out loud. Mamma was still behind me, she hadn't left me, I don't know why Rino said she was gone. He'd say anything to hurt me. "Mamma," I whispered, the sound dragging out of my dry throat. Mamma instantly leaned her head against mine, "I'm right here, honey. What is it? What do you need?" "I don't want to marry him," I choked out, I was back in the sun, standing by the water, "Rino. You can't make me. Papà said he could take the land instead. Tell him I said no." Mamma started stroking my hair, slowly, "You don't have to marry anyone, not ever. We won't let them force you." "He forcefully kissed me," I mumbled, I could feel the rough fabric of my dress against my neck, but in my head, I felt the sun and the salt, "He squeezed my jaw and he pushed his mouth onto mine. It was just supposed to be for a nice boy, not Rino." The image flashed in

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ Papà had done the unthinkable. He’d accepted my marriage to Antonio. Not quietly, not behind closed doors, but publicly, before the men, before the family, before the world that had already been sharpening their knives for us. It was a statement. Vittorio Capone didn’t bend to pressure, not from the Lombardis, not from the Outfit council, not from anyone who thought they could use my disgrace to come for his head. No one could touch me without touching him. And now it was just me and Antonio. He was sitting in the corner, slumped against the wall, his face so swollen I almost didn’t recognize him. His skin was purple and gray in places, one eye half-shut, lips cracked, hands trembling against his knees. He looked… finished. So did I. The ache in my ribs pulsed every time I breathed. My shoulder throbbed beneath the sling. My knee refused to bend. The bandage around my head itched, a reminder of how far I’d fallen, how much I’d lost trying to prove I could con

Alessia ─ ∘❉∘ ─ Antonio and I saw each other during the day. We talked sometimes, small, polite things that didn’t mean much. We smiled from a distance, two strangers wearing the rings that were supposed to make us one. We were married, sure… but only on paper. I couldn’t bring myself to be touched, not by him, not by anyone. The thought of Antonio’s hands on me made my lungs close up. Every time he stood too close, I could feel my chest tighten, like the air had turned thick enough to choke me. I couldn’t even stand Salvatore towering over me anymore, my own brother. The sound of heavy footsteps behind me made my pulse race. The scent of cologne on someone’s collar could make my stomach twist. And it wasn’t just because of what happened that night. It was because of what I let happen before all that. I’d screamed before, I’d accused Rino and his friends, I’d made sure everyone heard it. And then, when it actually happened... when they proved me right in the worst way possible,

Rino ─𖤝─ ⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰ Three Months Later. ⊱⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊰ The front door of my home didn't deserve a gentle hand. I hit it so hard the sound cracked through the silent marble foyer. I didn't bother shaking off my jacket, I just ripped the fucking thing off and threw it onto the nearest chrome chair. Valeria. She was sitting in the living room, curled up on the white sofa, looking small and fragile. Five months pregnant, she was still trying to hide the swell of her belly beneath a loose silk robe. "Rino... You're home?" She asked, stunned, I barely came here and whenever I did she acted like it was something out of this fucking world. I didn't answer. I just walked straight toward her. I stopped right in front of the couch, my shadow falling over her. I reached out, my fingers wrapping around her arm just above the elbow. I didn't squeeze, I wouldn't risk hurting the kid. "Look at me, Valeria," I ordered, forcing her to raise her chin. Her eyes were instantly full o