Don Regret Novels & Stories

That explains all his comments about how he hated being around a rich, spoilt kid. I squared my shoulders high and walked out of Trent's office. He could try his best, but I won't let him see me as my father's underling. I just have to make him forgive me for today's mistake. I thought and made my way out, only to be stopped by Mr. Donovan. “That wasn't a smart move, Lenore Reed," Mr. Donovan said and laughed. “I have no idea what you're talking about, sir," I replied to him, matching his tone.

The door open, snapping my attention to it, my spirit dropped when John came in. I was hoping it was Marco sneaking. “Donna.” He stared, was confirming the bullshit the journalist has said. I shook my head, swallowing the thick lumps that have formed in my throat. “Where's Marco.” My voice broke, “I ask a question.” I demanded when he didn't say anything. His stare was fixed on the floor, I saw him fisting his palm and his body shook as if he were holding back his emotions. “Don is dead.” Even is voice was more broken than mine.

The pages were filled with my old foolish words. [Helped him sort his ledgers today, and he said my handwriting was clear. I was happy all night.] [He wore the shirt I gave him. Maybe he feels differently about me?] By contrast, his actions were despicable. “I know I was wrong.” Vincenzo’s voice was raw and hoarse. “I know. I just want to make it right and start over. Can I?” “No.” Leonardo’s refusal was absolute. “Some harm, once done, can never be undone. Your regret is just a burden to Ella.”

He stood up, looking down at me with eyes full of disappointment. "Stop letting jealousy blind you. For your sake, I can keep your father alive, but release him? Absolutely not." Just as I wanted to laugh out of despair, the doctor pushed the door open. He wore a professional smile and bowed to Alexander. "Congratulations, Don. The results are in. The Donna is pregnant." Alexander froze. Those usually gloomy blue eyes suddenly burst with ecstatic light. "Really?" He looked sharply at my stomach. The coldness from a moment ago vanished, his voice trembling. "You mean, I'm going to be a father?"

I set my phone to Do Not Disturb and went over to the temple. I was back to my solitary life. I did not know how much I missed it. But it was odd being back around other assistants. They treated me too delicately. They seemed to avoid the subject of love or death all together. It was getting too frustrating so one day I asked. "Alright, spit it out. Why have you all been acting like I would break at any moment?" I asked and they hesitated. "We are worried about triggering you. We heard you husband died," one of them said and I paused, recalling I had infact told one of them over the phone that.

“Raphael, you really are a hopeless bastard.” Seeing me cry, his body flinched, and he moved toward me on instinct. But Daphne suddenly caught his arm and said softly, “But Donna, the Don is only stating a fact.” “Seven years of marriage. You really haven't given him an heir.” “Any other man would have dumped you long ago, but the Don put up with you for seven whole years!” “He never said a word, and you're the one asking for a divorce. Aren't you being selfish? You don't spare a thought for how hard this is on him.”

Let the scandal eat him alive. Then I bought it back. Pennies on the dollar. That way, someone else took the fall for the bad press, and I got the company back for almost nothing. The next time I saw Enzo was in the CEO's office. But this time, I wasn't walking in as an employee. I was the new owner. "Mr. Romano. Long time." He'd lost a lot of weight in two months. The cocky, confident man was gone. He looked at me with his tail between his legs.

Hope flashed across Nico's face. "Luca," he whispered, reaching out. "My boy." Luca moved back before Nico could touch him. He was five, dressed in a black suit my mother's tailor had made, but he looked steadier than most men in the room. "Do not call me that," he said. "My father died the night he denied me in front of strangers and watched them beat my mother. You are Don Varrone. Nothing more." Nico made a broken sound.

I spent ten years trying to win the heart of Luca Moretti, the most feared Don in Sicily. In the end, it was our six-year-old daughter who taught me to let go. That night, before bed, I tried to talk to him again. “Luca, why don’t we take Sophia to the amusement park this Saturday?” He sat on the sofa, staring at his phone. He didn’t look up. A faint smile touched his lips as he read the message on the screen. I knew who it was—his childhood sweetheart, recently divorced and back in Sicily. I was about to ask again when Sophia ran over and took my hand. “Mommy, don’t ask anymore.” I looked down at her. “Why?” She glanced at Luca and lowered her voice. “It’s obvious. Daddy doesn’t want to tal

Day three of the silent treatment. My husband Adrian Veta, the Don, once again went behind my back and approved Mirena Ricci's deeply flawed port logistics plan. He thought I would argue my case as I used to do at family meetings, but I merely responded faintly. When he saw that, he handed Mirena the docks I had spent years managing and dismissed several men who had openly supported me to establish her authority. Still, I did not fight back. Mirena smugly leaned against him. "I told you that she'll learn her place once you neglect her. She can't bear to leave you." Adrian agreed wholeheartedly. That evening, he made a rare visit to the estate, promising to give me management of the Wes