บททั้งหมดของ The Don's Stolen Bride: บทที่ 11 - บทที่ 20

The call came on a Tuesday morning.Daisy was in the garden, her hands buried in soil, planting new roses. The sun was warm on her back, and she could hear Sofia's laughter drifting from the front yard where she was playing with a new puppy Enzo had surprised her with.It was perfect. It was everything she'd ever dreamed of.Then her phone rang.She wiped her hands on her jeans and fished it out of her pocket. The screen showed an unknown number, and her heart clenched.Probably a customer, she told herself. Just a customer.She answered. "Hello?""Daisy." The voice was cold, familiar. "It's Lucia."Daisy's blood ran cold. "What do you want?""I need to warn you." Lucia's voice was urgent, clipped. "Valentina has been released from prison. She's out."Daisy's knees buckled. She sank onto the grass, her vision swimming. "What? How? She was supposed to be locked away for years.""She had allies," Lucia said grimly. "People who owed her favors. People who wanted to see the Vitale family

Five years had passed since Valentina's death.Daisy stood in her garden, her hands buried in the warm earth, planting new roses. The morning sun was gentle on her face, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers.It was a perfect day."Mommy! Mommy, look!"Daisy looked up to see Sofia running toward her, her dark hair flying behind her. She was fourteen now, tall and graceful, with her father's ice-blue eyes and her mother's gentle smile.Behind her, a small boy toddled after her—Enzo Junior, three years old, his chubby face split in a delighted grin."What is it, sweetheart?" Daisy asked, brushing the dirt from her hands.Sofia skidded to a stop, clutching something in her hands. "I found it! I found it in the attic!"Daisy's heart skipped a beat as she recognized the object. It was an old wooden box, carved with intricate designs—the same box she'd hidden away years ago, filled with memories she'd been too afraid to face."Where did you find that?" Daisy asked,

The morning started like any other.Daisy woke up in Enzo's arms, the sun streaming through the curtains, the sound of birds singing in the garden. She stretched, a contented sigh escaping her lips, and turned to look at her husband.He was still asleep, his face peaceful, his dark hair mussed against the pillow. Even after all these years, he still took her breath away.How did I get so lucky? she thought, her heart swelling with love.She pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek and slipped out of bed, padding barefoot to the kitchen. The house was quiet, the children still asleep, and Daisy relished the rare moment of solitude.She made herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table, looking out at the garden. The roses were in full bloom, their petals glistening with dew. It was beautiful. It was perfect.But something was different.Daisy couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt it—a shift in the air, a flutter in her chest. Something was changing. Something was coming.She shook

Ten years had passed since Rose was born.Daisy stood in the garden, her fingers buried in the warm earth, planting new roses. The morning sun was gentle on her face, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers.It was a perfect day."Mommy! Mommy, look!"Daisy looked up to see Rose running toward her, her dark hair flying behind her. She was fifteen now, tall and graceful, with her mother's honey-brown eyes and her father's stubborn determination.Behind her, Enzo Junior followed at a more leisurely pace, his hands in his pockets, his expression the same brooding intensity his father had worn at his age. He was eighteen now, a young man with his father's sharp mind and his mother's gentle heart."What is it, sweetheart?" Daisy asked, brushing the dirt from her hands.Rose skidded to a stop, her face flushed with excitement. "I got the part! I got the lead in the school play!"Daisy's heart swelled. "Oh, baby, that's wonderful! I'm so proud of you!"She pulled Rose

Ten years had passed since Daisy's death.Sofia stood in the garden of her childhood home, her hands clasped behind her back, her eyes scanning the familiar landscape. The roses were in full bloom, their petals catching the golden light of the afternoon sun. The stone bench was still there, beneath the arch of climbing roses. The paths were still lined with the flowers her mother had planted decades ago.It was beautiful. It was peaceful. It was home.But something was different.Sofia couldn't put her finger on it, but she felt it—a shift in the air, a pull in her chest. Something was calling to her, drawing her deeper into the garden.She followed the feeling, her footsteps slow and deliberate. She passed the rose bushes, the peonies, the hydrangeas. She passed the stone bench where her mother had spent her final hours. She passed the spot where her father had proposed, where her parents had renewed their vows, where their love had bloomed and flourished.And then she found it.Tuck