Chord Donna Donna

I saved the life of Don Stefano Marino of the Marino family. The moment a bullet was about to strike him, I was the one who shielded him from it. Because of the life debt he owed me, Stefano decided that I would be the one marrying him instead of my older sister, Anna Costa, in the marriage alliance. But on our wedding night, Stefano would rather drink himself into a stupor somewhere in the city than consummate our marriage with me. Like a naive fool, I thought that I'd be able to melt his heart of ice someday with my love. But it had been less than five years when Stefano brought a kid, who resembled him, and Anna back. "Anna has suffered tremendously during her time overseas while trying to raise her child on her own. I need to make it up to her." Then, Stefano passed the divorce agreement to me. "You've hogged the position as the Donna for so many years. It's time for you to give it back to her." Only then did I find out that Stefano had actually spent the night with Anna on the night of our wedding. I pulled out the pregnancy report that I had meant to surprise Stefano with, only for him to rip it into shreds. "I don't need another child." Once those icy words fell, I was sent into the operating theater by force, where I suffered from heavy bleeding afterward, resulting in the deaths of me and my unborn baby. When I woke up again, I saw Stefano, who was about to get shot. This time, I shoved Anna in his direction.

Three months after Pete took his foster sister as his mistress, I terminated my marriage, chose to die on paper, and vanished from his life entirely. One quiet morning, I handed my child over to the nannies arranged by the family and walked out of the Rizzuto estate alone. Pete didn’t chase after me that day. He believed I would come back. Once I had calmed down, I would lower my head. The following spring, I was diagnosed with cancer. Standing in the hospital corridor, I suddenly remembered years ago— Pete had taken my hand and said, “You’ll be the finest Donna this Rizzuto family has ever had.” What pulled me back was not Pete. It was a letter from Sicily. Thin paper. Cold, rigid handwriting—the kind favored by old families who had ruled too long to bother with sentiment. “The heir has begun showing signs of emotional instability.” “Recent violent behavior has caused internal concern.” “There is disagreement within the family regarding the current Don’s judgment.” In the mafia world, there is only one reason the elders would bypass a man and reach out to a wife officially presumed dead— When the family itself begins to lose balance. So I returned. To the place I had once fled with everything I had. This time, there were no illusions. I no longer placed any hope in emotion. I was there only to fulfill the obligations of the family. I knew exactly how much time I had left. And I knew exactly what needed to be done. I became a proper Donna.

On the night of our anniversary, I had prepared a new set of lingerie for my Mafia husband Joey, but he had prepared divorce papers for me instead. A Cuban cigar was clamped between his teeth, a look of pure entitlement on his face. "Adriana, we need to divorce. Vivian's father is a capo. If I marry her, my future's set." "Look, sweetheart, you're just a broken family's leftover daughter. You should be grateful I kept you around this long." "Once I have the family ring, maybe I'll throw you a few scraps, let you be my little side piece." Everyone expected the daughter of a fallen family to step aside for his ambition, to be the loyal dog I'd been for the past seven years. But that night, I made a deal with the devil. I accepted a match arranged by my family and married the true king of New York's underworld. I vanished from Joey's world completely. Three years later, I returned to New York on my husband's arm. We were there on family business. Dante was called away for something urgent, leaving me to wait for him at his private club. I never expected to run into Joey, the man I hadn't seen in three years. "That's enough, Adriana. Stop with the childish tantrums." "Our son Angelo's almost six. He needs care. I'm being generous, offering you a position as his nanny." I laughed. What was this idiot talking about? He was calling the most feared and revered Donna in all of New York a nanny?

I was raised to believe that love meant endurance. That if I loved him enough, I could survive anything. For seven years, I was stationed at the border—alone, bleeding, freezing, nearly dying more times than I can count. Every transfer request I submitted was denied. Every time I asked why, I was told the same thing: the family needed me. The alliance came first. Others needed protection more than I did. What I didn’t know was this— Every sacrifice I made was approved by the man who claimed to love me. Adrian Holt, the Don who raised me, protected me, promised I would be his Donna one day… He was the one signing my name away year after year. He chose widows. He chose alliances. He chose power. And he chose for me—without ever asking. Because he was certain of one thing: That no matter what he did, I would never leave him. He believed love meant I would understand. That loyalty meant silence. That I would forgive anything—as long as he said he loved me. So when I finally walked away, I didn’t argue. I didn’t beg. I disappeared. And that was the moment his world collapsed. Now he’s tearing through cities, alliances, and his own sanity trying to find me— Too late realizing that love is not sacrifice when only one person bleeds. This is not a story about redemption. It’s a story about what happens after you lose the woman who endured everything… And finally chose herself.

I was eighteen when I left Italy for Chicago. My brother Leo handed me over to his most powerful ally for “protection.” Don Damien Volkov. His eyes locked on me the first time we met. They never looked away. By day, I was his private doctor. By night, I was the only thing in his bed. His seduction was a slow, deliberate hunt. The way his body brushed against mine during an exam. A stray kiss that landed behind my ear. The weight of his hand resting on the small of my back. I fell fast and hard for his dark charm. I gave myself to him, letting him claim me, again and again. For four years, our affair was a secret hidden in the shadows. In that time, he sculpted my body, teaching it to crave his touch, molding me into his perfect obsession. Then she came back. Isabella, his exiled ex-fiancée. He sent his private jet for her. I swallowed my pride and crashed his reunion. An hour ago, his hands, still smelling of blood, gripped my chin. He forced his kiss on me. But now, right in front of me, he was stroking another woman's hair. "Elara, you're the one who climbed into my bed four years ago." "You act like a whore, but you expect me to treat you like a Donna?" The way he looked at Isabella was so tender. The way he looked at me was pure scorn. Shame burned through me. Head down, I sent my brother a coded text. Accept the Moretti proposal. I looked up. A smile bloomed on my face. "Fine. Then this is goodbye, Damien."

The nights in Vicente were a coexistence of order and gunfire. Tonight was the wedding, ten years overdue, between Anthony Oliver, the don of the Oliver mafia family, and Mabel Samson, the woman who had stood beside him through bloodshed, betrayals, and underworld wars. A top-tier luxury hotel had been cleared by the family's soldati. Below them glittered a sea of city lights; above them bloomed fireworks commissioned for the future Donna alone. The man known for his ruthlessness knelt on one knee with a rare diamond ring, his eyes filled with rare tenderness. "Mabel," he said, "you walked through hell at my side. Let me give you peace for the rest of your life." It seemed that all the sacrifices and patience had finally led somewhere. However, just as Mabel's fingers were about to touch the ring, a piercing scream came from above. "Don't! Anthony! Save me!" That single cry drew all of Anthony's attention away. The girl was not unfamiliar to Mabel. Two years earlier, Anthony's twin brother had been tortured to death by a rival mafia family while covering his retreat. His body was never recovered. And Cheryl Reyes was the fiancée he had protected with his life. Mabel watched as the man she loved abandoned everything without hesitation and ran toward another woman. She stepped forward and tried to stop him. "Don't go. The wedding isn't over." However, when their eyes met, the Don accused her coldly of being heartless and selfish. And in that moment, Mabel felt tired. Perhaps it was time, just once, to choose herself over the Family.

Donna Sofia Marino's birthday is held on Valentine's Day. When Francesco Rossi, the Underboss of the Costa family, announces the news on behalf of Don Enzo Costa, everyone in the family is very happy. Well, everyone but me. As expected, Francesco is quick to add, "Someone needs to guard the headquarters. Camilla, you'll be the one in charge of this task." "What the Underboss means is that you don't really carry out any missions in your daily life. Besides, you have tons of spare time anyway. This time, you are to guard the headquarters so that you can deal with any emergencies that might arise." I just smirk sarcastically. The truth is, I'm always the one dealing with the most dangerous matters concerning the Costa family. The transactions of the firearms worth hundreds of millions of dollars are successfully carried out thanks to the plan I've spent countless sleepless nights perfecting. When a crossfire breaks out, I'm always on the frontlines, fighting for the family's glory despite getting injured. While I'm given the title as the executive director, I'm never given any actual power. In truth, my standing is lower than that of a soldato. I'm always the one carrying out the hardest, the most menial, not to mention the most dangerous tasks. But every time credit is given, it's never given to me. I've been enduring this injustice for five long years. This time, I no longer want to keep enduring anymore. With a smile on my face, I stand up from my seat. "Alright then, Underboss Rossi. I shall guard the headquarters. But this will be the last time I ever do this. After this task is completed, I will officially leave the Costa family once and for all."

Three years ago, on the day I married Luca Moretti, he personally handed me a marriage contract with a fixed term of three years. His tone was casual, indifferent, as if he were discussing an ordinary business deal. "This marriage exists solely to serve the alliance of interests between the Morettis and the Vitales. Sign this agreement. After three years, the marriage will automatically dissolve. When that time comes, you can go and pursue your true love." I barely hesitated before signing. Ten years earlier, at an inter-family business gala, when I was ten and Luca was sixteen, I had already fallen hopelessly in love with him. What looked like a strategic alliance was, in truth, the outcome of my decade-long unrequited love. During the three years of our marriage, Luca was attentive and gentle toward me. Over time, I began to believe I was loved. I sank into that illusion, unable to pull myself out, forgetting entirely about the agreement. That illusion was shattered completely on the night of our third wedding anniversary. That evening, Luca arrived with Elena, who had just returned to New York, and attended what was supposed to be our third anniversary celebration together. She stood beside him with ease and composure, smoothly engaging with business partners. People praised her, saying she looked more like the Donna of the Moretti family. In that moment, even though Luca never mentioned the agreement again, I understood clearly that it was time for me to step aside. After breaking free from his control, crossing an ocean to rebuild myself, and becoming a brilliant leader in my industry, I would no longer wait for his love.

My name is Mia, and I am the middle child of Don and Donna Costa. I am also the black sheep of the family. Or the ugly duckling, as my mother would call me. My shift ended a few hours ago, but it takes me long to get home as I do not have a car like my brother, Leonardo, the oldest, or my sister, Amara, the beautiful one and youngest in the family. As you may gather from my story so far, my parents do not care about me. I walk into the house with a sigh. I have seen the cars in front of our home, and I know my family has friends over. "You have nothing I want! You stole from us, and today I will kill your whole family," I hear an angry voice. I wonder what my father has done this time to piss someone off. "Godfather, give me another chance. You can have my beautiful daughter as your wife," My father begs. Holy shit! My father stole from the godfather? I know the godfather is about thirty, and his name is Riccardo Marina. The Marina family is the most powerful in the American mafia. "I do not like blond blue-eyed sluts. I prefer women with dark hair. Besides, Everyone in town knows Amara Costa! She has been around the block," Riccardo says with disgust. I do not know what to do. Shall I hide? Not many people know my parents have another daughter. I am never invited to their parties as my family is ashamed of me. I do not care for my family, and they can die for all I care. "I have another daughter with dark hair. Maybe you will fancy her," My father begs again. I sigh. Typical!

En nuestro séptimo aniversario de bodas, estaba montada sobre las piernas de mi esposo, Lucian, el Don de la mafia, besándolo con pasión. Mis dedos hurgaban con disimulo en el bolsillo de mi costoso vestido de seda, buscando la prueba de embarazo que había escondido ahí. Quería guardarme la noticia inesperada para el final de la noche. La mano derecha de Lucian, Marco, preguntó con una sonrisa sugerente en italiano: —Don… ¿qué tal su nuevo secretito? La risa burlona de Lucian vibró en mi pecho y sentí cómo se me revolvía el estómago. Respondió, también en italiano: —Como un durazno verde. Fresco y tierno. Su mano todavía acariciaba mi cintura, pero tenía la mirada perdida. —Que esto quede entre nosotros. Si mi Donna se entera, me mata. Sus hombres rieron con complicidad, alzando sus copas y jurando guardar el secreto. El calor que sentía en el cuerpo se me fue extinguiendo. Lo que ellos no sabían es que mi abuela era de Sicilia, así que entendí cada una de sus palabras. Me obligué a mantener la calma, con la sonrisa perfecta de una matriarca, pero la mano con la que sostenía la copa de champaña me temblaba. En lugar de hacer una escena, tomé el celular, busqué la invitación que había recibido hacía unos días para un proyecto privado de investigación médica internacional y acepté. En tres días, iba a desaparecer del mundo de Lucian.