روايات وقصص ضمن Chord Donna Donna

On our tenth year anniversary, I'm making out with my husband, Don Raimondo Brocchi, in his office. Just as I'm about to secretly slip the pregnancy report into his hand as a surprise, his secretary, Anna Altamura, walks into the office. We're forced to stop our makeout session. Meanwhile, Anna shoots me a provocative look before she begins chatting with Raimondo in fluent Italese. "Don Brocchi, who do you like more in bed? Me or the Donna?" Raimondo lets out a soft chuckle. The vibrations of his voice makes my back crawl with numbness. "You, of course. After all, you're younger and tighter, amore. Meanwhile, Cassia is already 30 years old." Haughtily, Anna picks up a document before returning to her seat. What they don't know is that my Nonno hails from Sicaria. That means I understand each and every Italese word they just said. After forcing myself to calm down, I locate the invitation mailed from Anworth Institute that comes with a permanent position in my inbox. Then, I key in a short response to the person in charge. I agree to travel to the institution. Before my trip, I will make sure to terminate everything that belongs to me.

A família Rossi tem uma regra. Se você quer ser a próxima Donna, precisa provar seu valor. Fazer trezentos milhões de dólares, dinheiro limpo, em um único ano. Tudo por conta própria, sem ajuda da família. Passei dez anos tentando conseguir isso por Vincent. Construí dez empresas do zero. Mas toda vez, justamente quando eu estava prestes a cruzar a linha de chegada, algo dava errado. Tudo simplesmente... Desmoronava. Este ano, finalmente consegui. Corri para o escritório dele, com o relatório da auditoria em mãos, com o coração martelando contra as costelas. Achei que finalmente tinha vencido. Em vez disso, descobri que toda a minha vida era uma mentira. Ele entregou todo o meu império para Ava, a bastarda do meu pai. Tudo porque ela supostamente salvou a vida dele uma vez, e ele queria torná-la a verdadeira Donna. Eu desisti dele e do sonho da minha família de ascender junto com a dele. Então peguei o telefone e liguei para a Outfit de Chicago. — Sobre a proposta de casamento de vocês. — Eu disse. — Eu aceito.

The news came that Raymond had been shot. I was seven months pregnant, but I flew straight across the country to the family's East Coast compound—and got detained the moment I stepped inside. “Never heard of the Don having a fiancée, and pregnant no less. You've got some nerve running a con on Carraso turf.” The barrel of a gun pressed cold against my temple. My heart was clawing its way up my throat when I caught sight of a familiar figure across the room. “Raffina,” I shouted, “tell them I'm your brother-in-law's fiancée.” Raffina gave a small wave of her hand, and the man holding the gun immediately bent at the waist. “Donna, I didn't know she was a friend of yours. My mistake.” I stared with wide eyes, unable to make sense of what I was seeing. Inside the compound, the same man crossed to where Raymond sat on the couch without a scratch on him, and gave a formal nod. “Don, she claims she's your fiancée.” Raymond took a slow sip of his whiskey and shook his head, just barely. They dragged me out, and on the way the man slapped me across the face, warning me not to try my con act anywhere near the family again. I pulled the engagement ring off my finger and went straight to International Financial Tower.

Há três anos, o irmão do meu marido levou um tiro por ele. Então, Gwen trouxe a viúva do irmão, Eliza, para dentro da nossa casa. Eu era a Donna apenas no nome. Em tudo, precisava ceder lugar para ela. Certa vez, Eliza fingiu cortar os pulsos. Disse que eu a tinha levado a isso. Gwen agarrou meu pescoço. Havia intenção de matar nos olhos dele. — Saia daqui. A família Falcone não tem lugar para uma vadia venenosa como você. Ele entregou a ela a fundação de arte da família para “compensá-la”. Aquilo deveria ser meu. Dessa vez, não disse nada. Ele estava assinando uma pilha de contratos comerciais. Eu apenas deslizei os papéis do divórcio entre eles. Alguns dias depois, percebeu que eu não estava em casa. Procurou por toda Chicago. Não conseguiu me encontrar. Foi então que viu a sentença de divórcio. Só naquele momento entendeu. Eu tinha ido embora. Para sempre. Naquele dia, o intocável rei da Máfia de Chicago… desmoronou.

When I bring up divorce in front of my husband, Vito Corti, he happens to be toying with a lace thigh strap that's gifted to him by a rising adult film star. Vito, the head of the Corti family as well as the youngest Don in Emaly, orders his Soldato to pick up his new lover tonight. Then, he shoots a languid glance at the divorce agreement on the table. "How big of a tantrum are you throwing this time, my dear Donna?" I reply calmly, "I didn't touch the bank card tied to the private account. I also don't want the estate in Emaly as well as the bulletproof convoy. I have already entrusted the asset management authority to your Consigliere." Vito is stunned for a moment, but he still thinks I'm still throwing a tantrum. "You don't want those assets? Then what do you want? My devotion? Gia, I already told you in the past that you're the woman with the highest position in the family. But it's too boring for a Don to own just one woman." He tries to reach out to feel my cheek, thinking that I'll act the same way as before; that I'll forgive him in a roundabout way after lashing out at him. But I just avoid his hand. I no longer want Vito's devotion to me. Now, I just want to leave him.

On my wedding day, my mafia fiancé, Ryder Conti, had his men bar me from the church. Instead, he walked down the aisle with another woman on his arm. He shrugged at me through the iron gates. "Emilia, the Contis need an heir, and Carmela is carrying a Rossi." "Once I use the Rossi influence to solidify my position in the Family, I'll divorce her. You'll still be my woman." Everyone thought I would obediently nod and wait for him to come back. For ten years, I had loved him more than life itself, even cutting ties with my family for him. That very night, I boarded a private jet to Sicily to accept an arranged marriage with the Godfather of the Vettori family. From then on, I vanished without a trace from Ryder Conti's world. Three years later, I returned to New York with my husband and child to deal with a traitor in the Family. Zayn had some last minute business, so he sent his men to collect me. I never expected to see a face from my past. Ryder looked at me with a smirk. "Had enough fun out there? Since you've come crawling back, this is perfect. Carmela's son needs a cook. You can do the job." Wait, he just called me, the most respected Donna in the underworld, the cook?

La familia Rossi tiene una regla. Si quieres ser la próxima Donna, tienes que demostrar tu valor. Gana trescientos millones de dólares, dinero limpio, en un solo año. Todo por tu cuenta, sin ayuda de la familia. Pasé diez años intentando hacerlo por Vincent. Construí diez empresas desde cero. Pero cada vez, justo cuando estaba a punto de cruzar la línea de meta, algo salía mal. Todo simplemente... se derrumbaba. Este año, finalmente lo logré. Corrí a su despacho, con la auditoría en la mano y con el corazón latiendo contra mis costillas. Pensé que finalmente había ganado. En cambio, me enteré de que mi vida entera era una mentira. Él le entregó todo mi imperio a Ava, la bastarda de mi padre. Todo porque supuestamente ella le salvó la vida una vez, y él quería convertirla a ella en la verdadera Donna. Me rendí con él. Me rendí. Del sueño de mi familia de ascender junto a la suya. Entonces tomé el teléfono y llamé a la mafia de Chicago. —Su propuesta de matrimonio —dije—. Acepto.

Hace tres años, el hermano de mi esposo recibió una bala por él. Por eso, Gwen trajo a la viuda de su hermano, Eliza, a nuestro hogar. Yo era la Donna solo de nombre. Tuve que hacerme a un lado para dejarle el lugar a Eliza en todo. Una vez, Eliza fingió cortarse las venas. Dijo que yo la había incitado a ello. Gwen me agarró por la garganta, y el instinto asesino brilló en sus ojos. —Lárgate. La familia Falcone no tiene lugar para una perra venenosa como tú. Él le entregó la fundación de arte de la familia para "compensarla". Se suponía que esa fundación sería mía. Esa vez, no dije nada. Él estaba firmando una pila de contratos comerciales. Simplemente deslicé los papeles del divorcio entre ellos. Unos días después, notó que yo no estaba en casa. Me buscó por todo Chicago, pero no pudo encontrarme. Fue entonces cuando vio la sentencia de divorcio. Finalmente lo entendió. Me había ido. Para siempre. Ese día, el intocable rey del Chicago Outfit… se hizo pedazos.

The year the Rossi famiglia falls, my personal Underboss, Lorenzo Santoro, rises to power—becoming the Don and seizing control of the underworld. Once, I was the untouchable Principessa. He was the Soldato, ready to die for me at a moment's notice. For something as trivial as a paper cut on my finger, he would drop to his knees with red-rimmed eyes, blowing on it for half an hour. Now, to earn a smile from his new flame, Elena Marino, he forces me to sign a contract and makes me his live target. He watches with indifference as I am battered and bloodied under a hail of bullets. During a blast-resistance test, shattered glass slices the corner of my eye, but Lorenzo merely looks on. "The once-delicate Principessa Rossi can't even handle a little pain?" During attack-dog training, I am bitten to the bone, yet he shields a trembling Elena instead. "Animals don't know any better. Why are you holding a grudge against a dog?" Then comes the real kidnapping. To save Elena, who is desperate to become Donna, he personally cuts off my escape. "This is just a drill, Isabella," he scoffs. "Stop acting like it's real." On the surveillance monitors, flames engulf me as I take my final breath. A bloodstained termination contract is delivered to him. "Don Santoro, I return the life I owe you." Only then does the man who believes he rules the world finally lose his mind.

Eight months pregnant, I had every bank card frozen by my husband’s female secretary. Over the phone, she laughed coldly and said, “From now on, every cent you spend needs my approval. Jack works too hard to waste his money on a useless woman who only knows how to shop.” That same day, I was rushed to the hospital with contractions. Every card I tried was declined. And as if that wasn’t enough, she had also moved my parents out of their private senior suite and into the cheapest room available. Her reason? Two ordinary old people had no right to waste Jack’s money. I laughed. She had no idea those “ordinary old people” were the Don and Donna of the Bellandi family, the couple who had controlled Italy’s underworld for decades. She had no idea Jack’s company, his reputation, his fortune—everything he owned—had come from the Bellandi family. My parents had already planned to retire completely after my child was born. They were going to hand the entire family over to me. And to Jack. Too bad. Jack had allowed her to humiliate the only real power he would ever have the chance to stand beside. Three days later, Jack held a welcome party for his mysterious investor. In front of everyone, his secretary dialed the investor’s number. The next second, my phone rang.