Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Dons Forbidden Wife: Kabanata 21 - Kabanata 30

Serena’s POV“Trash.”The word follows me all the way back to the bedroom.I don’t hear footsteps behind me, but I feel eyes on my back until the door closes. I make sure it does not slam. I make sure my hand is steady on the handle, I make sure I look composed until the latch clicks shut.Only then do I stop pretending.The room is exactly how I left it earlier. The lights are low, adjusted to flatter skin and fabric. Nothing here reacts to me ,Nothing here asks if I am all right.I take three steps forward and then freeze.My chest feels tight, like I have not taken a full breath since dinner ended. My shoulders ache from holding themselves in place for too long. I lift a hand and realize my fingers are shaking.“Get it together,” I say quietly, forcing the words out.My voice sounds strange to my own ears. Thin but quite controlled. I move toward the vanity because I do not trust my legs to take me anywhere else. The marble is cool under my palms when I brace myself against it. I

Dante’s POV “You will attend.” The words leave my mouth evenly, there is no emphasis, no threat layered beneath them. Authority doesn’t need decoration. Serena stands across from my desk, hands folded together, her back straight. She looks like someone who learned, very recently, how to hold herself still. Whatever broke inside her then has been shut out of this room. She doesn’t answer. I let the pause stretch. Silence forces people to reveal themselves. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet but steady. “Attend what?” “The gala,” I say. “The winter council gathering.” Her eyes flicker before she hides the reaction in.She knows what that means. “It will be your first appearance beside me,” I continue. “Publicly as my wife.” Her fingers tighten briefly, then loosen again. “And if I say no?” “That isn’t an option.” I say I move around the desk, shrugging out of my jacket and placing it aside. Every movement is measured. I stop a few feet from her. “Not

Dante’s POV“We leave in ten minutes.”My voice carries across the entrance hall, measured and calm. It doesn’t echo, but it doesn’t need to because every man in the room hears it anyway.The Romano estate is sealed tighter than usual tonight. Guards stand at every access point, shoulders squared, hands loose but ready. Earpieces murmur quietly with updates from the perimeter. The gates are locked, cameras are live and nothing moves without clearance.I stand at the foot of the marble staircase, jacket already buttoned, posture relaxed enough to look effortless. The tuxedo was tailored weeks ago, adjusted twice, finished this morning. It is Black and Unadorned. The kind of thing that makes a statement by not trying to.I check my watch, then slide my hand back into my pocket.This gala is not a social event, It’s exposure. The council will be there, men who smile while counting leverage, allies who want reassurance and Enemies who want proof of weakness. Tonight, Serena will stand bes

Serena’s POV Just when I thought the tension was over, I hear Antonio say, “Oh, Mum! I see you’ve met the guest of honor.” The voice slices through the ballroom like broken glass. Laughter had already been strained, conversations clipped and brittle, but the sound of Antonio Romano’s voice detonates what little balance remains, heads turn instantly. There is a ripple of unease that spreads across the polished floor. My body reacts before my mind does. The air thickens, It feels heavier, sour, like something rotting beneath silk and crystal. My grip tightens unconsciously around Dante’s arm. Antonio steps out from the shadowed archway lining the west side of the ballroom, slow and deliberate, as if he’s savoring every step. He holds a glass of scotch loosely in one hand, amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. His tuxedo jacket hangs open, tie loosened, the picture of careless defiance. He looks amused. Not amused like someone enjoying a joke, but like a man

Serena’s POV“Run, Martina! Don’t look back!”The voice rips through the dark, sharp enough to jolt my body even though I can’t move. I’m suspended in nothing, trapped between weightless and crushed, when the darkness explodes into violent orange light.Heat slams into me.Fire surrounds everything, the walls, ceiling, the floor beneath my feet. The house isn’t familiar, but my chest tightens like it should be. Flames climb fast, crackling and roaring as smoke pours into my lungs. I gasp, choking, my eyes burning as panic surges through me without permission.“Martina!”The name hits harder this time.My heart stutters violently. I don’t understand why hearing it feels like being grabbed from the inside, but it does, It feels like mine.Gunshots cut through the chaos.Sharp, Close and Precise.My body reacts before I can think. I flinch, cry out and stumble backward as a hand clamps around my arm.“Go!” a woman screams. “Now!”She shoves me toward a narrow hallway. My feet barely keep