Chapter 21

Celia stared at the hospital ceiling, harshly white and monotonous. Fresh bruises layered over old ones on her arms, her lips swollen and split from the fight.The fluorescent lights buzzed continuously, echoing the obsessive, unrelenting thoughts of hatred and revenge spinning in her mind.They abandoned me.They chose her in the end.She bit her lower lip until she tasted blood, replaying every humiliating scene—Nancy's cold, disdainful gaze, Leo turning his eyes away, Tad's ultimate departure, his indifferent retreat. The betrayal fermented inside her like an open wound left to fester.She would not let this end.Nancy didn't deserve victory.No matter how beautiful her wedding dress, no matter the power of the man she married, Celia vowed to destroy her.She would meticulously plan, unravel, and crush that seemingly perfect wedding.If she couldn't have them, no one would—especially not Nancy.So in that cold hospital room, steeped in the smell of disinfectant and her own despair,

Chapter 22

The first dawn after the shooting.Nancy sat alone in Eric's study — a room filled with flickering surveillance screens and shelves of ancient books. Her fingers moved absently along the spine of a leather‑bound Italian novel, still sealed in its wrapper. A gentle morning breeze stirred the lace curtains outside the bulletproof glass.The mansion stood impregnable — Eric's men patrolled in silence, inside and out, as stealthy as panthers in the shadows. Yet the echo of that fatal gunshot still pulsed in Nancy's eardrums, a ghost that refused to fade. Every distant sound — an engine backfiring, a door slamming somewhere beyond the walls — made her spine tighten in reflex. Every lull, every sudden silence, gripped her heart with invisible terror.The morning newspaper, screened and approved before delivery, brought news from across the city:Tad Weber's condition has stabilized following surgery. He is no longer in critical danger. His brother, Leo Weber, remains by his bedside.Nancy re

Chapter 23

I had never truly understood that the word peace could feel so tangible, so warm.Our honeymoon felt like stolen time, ripped from the bloodied chaos of reality — no family duties, no enemies lurking, only the Aegean waves and Eric's rare, low laughter, soft and unguarded.He surprised me in a way I hadn't anticipated. Using a private jet and speedboat, he brought me to a secluded island in the Greek archipelago — a private Bellini property, utterly isolated. The water was an almost unreal turquoise; hidden coves sparkled silver in the scorching Mediterranean sun. A modern, secure villa perched on a cliff, surrounded by blooming jasmine and ancient fig trees — a natural fortress.No visible bodyguards.No ghosts of the past.Just us.Each morning, I woke beneath soft Egyptian cotton sheets, sunlight brushing my cheeks before Eric's sleepy lips could reach them.At dawn, we swam in crystal waters; at night, we dined under the stars on the open terrace. Barefoot, we moved in silence alon

All Chapters of Daughter of the Don: Not a Girl To Cross: Chapter 21 - Chapter 23

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23