All Chapters of The Donna He Lost: Chapter 1 - Chapter 9

9 Chapters

Chapter 1

I walked into the bridal studio with my wedding gown draped over my arms.Four years as Bianca Marchello—fiancée of Enzo Marchello, heir to the most powerful mafia family in the city—and here I was, asking a seamstress to alter my wedding dress to another woman’s measurements.“Are you sure about the size change?” the seamstress asked gently as she pinned the new bust line—smaller, narrower, perfect for Lucia Ricci.“Yes.”My voice didn’t tremble. Today was the first step toward letting go.By the time I walked out of the studio, the last thread of denial had already been cut.The Marchello estate was warm when I returned.The smell hit me before I reached the kitchen.Butter. Garlic. Seared herbs.Enzo never cooked for me. Not once in four years.He hated kitchen smells, hated mess, hated the idea of smoke clinging to expensive suits.But now?There he was.Enzo Marchello—my husband—standing at the stove, sleeves rolled up, stirring a pan while Lucia Ricci sat at the marble counter,

Chapter 2

At the night Lucia was leaning over Enzo’s mahogany desk when I entered the study, twirling something in her fingers.My wedding ring.She slid it onto her hand—effortlessly, perfectly—like it had always belonged there.When I wore it, it spun loosely, one whole size too big.Lucia held up her hand, admiring how the diamond caught the light.“Oh,” she laughed softly, “it fits me just right. How funny.”My throat tightened.It was the same ring from the news photo.“Must’ve been a mix-up at the jeweler,” she continued cheerfully, turning the band as if it were nothing more than a trinket. “But don’t be upset, Bianca. You know I adore rings. Enzo gives me one every holiday—he spoils me terribly.”She shot me a sweet, poisonous smile.“This time he probably just grabbed the wrong size out of habit.”Enzo, standing beside her, didn’t deny it.Lucia laughed again, then slid the ring off and placed it carefully on the table—right in front of him.He merely said, “The wedding’s in a week. The

Chapter 3

The offer from Paris had been sitting in my inbox for months—a chief designer position at a luxury fashion house, the kind people built entire careers chasing.They had invited me three times.This morning, I finally typed the word I’d been too afraid to write before:Accept.Last night replayed in my mind like a cruel joke.The lace lingerie Enzo gifted me lay folded on the bed—delicate, elegant, absurdly expensive.A few years ago, I would’ve slipped into it eagerly, lying beneath him as if his touch were the only thing keeping me alive.But now?Now I only laughed at myself—quiet, self-mocking.Because I had almost worn it last night.Almost waited for him like a fool.Only for Enzo to never come home.He’d spent the night with Lucia.And the tiny, foolish hope inside me shriveled into something cold and unrecognizable.So I moved on to the second task on my list before leaving him for good.For years, I had believed that a man who didn’t love a woman would never waste money on her

Chapter 4

The next morning, Enzo returned home earlier than usual.Not with the quiet I had grown used to.Not with the calm, reserved silence that had always been part of who he was.But with purpose.“Get dressed,” he said, holding a small velvet box in one hand and a rolled document in the other. “We’re going to register our marriage today. I already booked the appointment. No waiting, no delays—you’ll still make it to work.”For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.Marriage registration.After four years of emotional purgatory.After countless nights wondering whether the man I loved even remembered I existed.He opened the velvet box.Inside was the wedding ring—now resized to fit my finger perfectly.“I had it adjusted,” he murmured. “It should be comfortable now.”My chest tightened painfully.Was this real?Was this him choosing me—finally, openly, decisively?A small part of me—the part that still ached at the sight of him, still reacted to his scent, still remembered the warmth of his ha

Chapter 5

The morning of the wedding, Enzo returned to the mansion expecting Bianca to be waiting by the staircase—nervous, radiant, maybe a little shy the way she always was when something important was about to happen.But the house greeted him with silence.Heavy, unnatural silence.He checked the kitchen.The library.The garden where Bianca always trimmed roses at sunrise.Nothing.A flicker of unease stirred low in his gut, but he forced himself to breathe.She’s probably already at the hotel.It was their wedding day—of course she’d be rushing with preparations.Maybe she was annoyed at him for missing the marriage office appointments.Twice.She had shown up both times, waiting under the harsh fluorescent lights with their documents neatly clipped in a folder.And both times, he hadn’t made it.Once because of a shootout at the docks.The second because Lucia’s “emergency” had turned out to be yet another exaggerated panic attack.He had promised Bianca he’d make it up to her.Promised t

Chapter 6

Enzo Marchello’s fingers trembled as they traced the embossed seal on the broken engagement dissolution papers Bianca had left behind.Lucia’s hand landed lightly on his shoulder, as if she owned the right to touch him.“Enzo, it’s throwing a tantrum. She’ll come crawling ba—”“I have a fiancée.”The words exploded out of him like gunfire.He shoved Lucia away, hard enough that a crystal vase toppled from the console table and shattered across the marble. Glass skittered across the floor like the pieces of the life he’d taken for granted.He stormed out of the mansion.His Mercedes roared down the highway toward the research headquarters where Bianca had worked for the past four years—work Enzo had never bothered to learn about, too consumed by meetings, territory disputes… and Lucia.He pushed through the building’s lobby.“Bianca Moreau. Where is she?”The receptionist blinked at his expensive suit and crazed expression. “Ms. Moreau resigned last week. Cleared her office completely.”

Chapter 7

Enzo had interrogated airport staff, threatened half of Paris’s private transportation network, and bribed an entire roster of design agencies before someone finally uttered the words that snapped his world into focus:“Bianca Moreau? She’s presenting at Atelier Lumière today.”He didn’t wait for directions.He was already running.The glass doors of the design building loomed like a cathedral, sleek and towering.Inside, murmurs drifted through the hall—a conference in progress.Enzo followed the sound.And then he saw her.Bianca stood beneath a wash of warm lights at the front of a wide presentation room, a digital model rotating behind her as she explained her design concept.Her voice—calm, confident, melodic.Her posture—straight, elegant, commanding.Her eyes—bright in a way he hadn’t seen in years.The room was full: senior designers, investors, industry heads.And every single one of them watched her with rapt admiration.But no one was more stunned than Enzo.He stopped in th

Chapter 8

Bianca didn’t move.Didn’t soften.Didn’t step into the arms that had once been her safe place.She simply looked at him—quiet, steady, unbearably calm.And Enzo knew before she spoke:he hadn’t earned forgiveness.Not even close.Bianca inhaled slowly.“Enzo… do you know what hurt the most?”He froze.“You had two opportunities to register our engagement,” she said, her voice trembling with a pain she refused to hide. “Twice, you postponed it.”Enzo’s throat tightened. “Bianca—”“And both times！”Her eyes glistened.He flinched as if struck.“No man,” Bianca whispered, “gives up officializing his engagement for a friend. No man chooses another woman’s crisis—real or fabricated—over the woman he claims to be building a life with.”Her voice remained soft, but every word landed like a blade.“So no,” she finished, breath shaky. “I don’t believe you love me.”His chest caved in.“Bianca—please—”“I’m not going back,” she said. “And I’m not forgiving you.”The finality of it hollowed him

Chapter 9

After the pregnancy scare, Bianca’s days became quieter, steadier—yet a soft storm lingered beneath the surface.Enzo, for once in his life, learned how to love with restraint.Not with pride.Not with entitlement.But with patience.And a fear of losing her again.The old Enzo was cold steel and sharp edges.The man he became now was something else entirely.Every morning, without fail, he waited at the entrance of her design firm.Not barging inside.Not demanding a conversation.Just standing under the awning—sometimes beneath rain, sometimes snow—holding a cup of warm milk and a doctor-approved set of prenatal vitamins.“Bianca, you don’t have to talk to me.”His voice was always soft, reverent.“I just want to make sure you didn’t faint again.”She would accept the bag with a polite nod,and keep walking.He never complained.Never pushed.Never asked for more.Losing her once had taught him exactly what loving her meant.She insisted on attending all her appointments alone.But e

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