All Chapters of The Don's Daughter: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

NIKOLAI'S POVI woke up with her on top of me.Her head was resting on my chest, her hair spilling across my skin like ink across paper. My arm was wrapped around her body, my hand resting against her waist as if it had always belonged there. She was warm. Real. Breathing.For a moment, I did not move. I did not breathe deeply. I simply existed in the fact that Vittoria De Luca was here.My wife.Last night felt like a fever dream. Too intense to be real. Too personal to be political. Too human for the world we lived in.We had consummated our marriage.The thought grounded me in a way nothing else ever had.It made it real.It made her real.I had signed contracts. I had arranged alliances. I had married her in front of men who would die for me. None of it felt as real as the weight of her body on mine.I wanted her.God, I wanted her so much that it hurt.Vittoria De Luca.My woman.I looked down at her, tracing her features slowly, memorising them like I might lose them again. She

NIKOLAI'S POVThe silence that followed my words was suffocating.Sophia stared at me like I had just declared war on my own blood. Her chest was rising rapidly, her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. Aleksandr and Mikhail tightened their grip on her, both of them tense, unsure whether to drag her away or let her say her piece.Dmitry looked entertained, which only irritated me further.Anastasia looked… sad.Good. Let them feel whatever they needed to feel. Vittoria was my wife. That was the end of it.“If you’re finished causing a scene in my house,” I continued coldly, “you will leave.”Sophia scoffed, her eyes darting back to Vittoria, who was watching all of this with infuriating calm. “You’re choosing her over us. Over family.”“You made that choice the moment you walked in here looking for a fight,” I shot back. “She is my family now.”That landed like a bullet.Aleksandr sighed and shook his head, disappointment etched into his expression. “Nikolai, she a

NIKOLAI'S POVThe next morningThe morning sun softly filled the room, spreading to even the darkest corners. I was half asleep, my mind was slowly waking but my body decided to continue to rest. My eyes remained closed, and my arm was wrapped around Vittoria. This was becoming the new normal, waking up to my wife still asleep in my arms. I feel like I have won the lottery of life. I slowly opened my eyes, to see Vittoria. Her head was resting on my arm and her face was facing towards me. I looked down at her face and immediately felt a conerned.Her eyebrows were furrowed and her breathing was fast than usual, her lips were parted slightly and her hair was notted. Almost as if she had been tossing and turning all night. How did I not notice?She must have had a poor sleep, maybe she's getting sick. I wouldn't be surprised if she has developed an infection from all her injuries. As I was laying there, contemplating if I should call the doctor now or later. Vittoria's eyes snapped op

NIKOLAI'S POVI was sitting in the hallway of the hospital while they were running tests on Vittoria. I couldn't help by feel completely responsible, I should have called the doctor last night, I should have been there to protect her so she wasn't injured in the first place. I should have been a better husband to her, I keep saying that I will do better but she has now been in the hospital more times then I'd care to think about. She spent our wedding night in the hospital, and since then she has been in a coma, been kidnapped, been humiliated, ran off with Matteo, came back home to fight off an intruder, and now back in the hospital. I am a terrible husband, I'm so pathetic that I can't even keep my wife safe. I swear to god, the second she wakes up I'm taking her away. Away from all of this, away from all this danger. I'll take her to New York, I have a penthouse there. Yeah that's a good idea, I'll take her there. Even if I have to carry her on the plane myself. I began mak

VITTORIA’S POVI can hear everything.That’s the worst part.The doctors, the hum of machines, the steady beep that measures whether I am still alive. The quiet murmurs. The rustle of fabric. The sound of footsteps moving around me like I am an object instead of a person.My body doesn’t move.My eyes don’t open.My mouth doesn’t speak.But my mind is awake.Trapped inside itself.At first, I think I am dreaming. The world feels distant, muted, like I am underwater. But then I feel hands. Warm. Firm. Familiar.Nikolai.I know his touch even when I can’t see him.He holds my hand. His thumb strokes my skin in that slow, controlled way he does when he is thinking too hard. When he is pretending not to be afraid.He thinks I can’t feel it.He thinks I can’t hear him.He thinks I am gone.I am not gone.I am listening.I hear him talk to the doctors. His voice is calm, clipped, authoritative. The Don. The man who controls everything and everyone.They tell him I will recover.They tell hi