Dona Morte Novels & Stories

When she hung the pendant around my neck, there was a sadness in her eyes that I couldn’t understand at the time. Even now, I still couldn't forget the way she looked when she said those words. Just as I was lost in thought, Donna Moretti suddenly brought up Mamma. “Do you miss your mother, Miss Bianca? I heard the late Donna Vitale was an extraordinary woman. I also heard that you want to take over the family business someday. Was that inspired by Donna Vitale?” The atmosphere in the living room instantly froze.

Forever. “There’s something much more important, Norah.” She straightens up in her chair and I look around. We’re seated at the outer part of the bar, under a large umbrella and occupying a cute wooden round table. I don’t think we should be talking about all of this literally just beside the street. But the weather is nice today and we both want to enjoy it without worrying about nosy strangers. “Well, the chief revealed that Mark was actually poisoned with the belladonna extract you gave me that night. And Oliver’s fingerprints were found on the vile,” I explain.

“I’m sorry for what happened. I’m sorry for putting your life in danger. I never meant for any of this to touch you.” My stomach twisted. “Oh my god, you do know her.” He nodded once, it was slow and miserable. “Who is she?” “Her name is Donna Sofia.” He spoke the name like it tasted bitter. “She’s married to one of the old bosses, Don Moretti. Back when Don Antonio adopted me, Don Moretti and Antonio were partners, they were thick as thieves.” He paused, rubbed his thumb across his knuckles like the motion could erase what came next.

One voice cut through the others like a blade. “…the shipment routes are compromised. If Enzo thinks he can run his own plays behind my back, he’s more stupid than I gave him credit for.” My stomach dropped. That voice. Deep, controlled, laced with quiet fury. I’d only heard it a handful of times—at family dinners Enzo dragged me to, always from across the room. Dante Moretti. Enzo’s father. The Don. I froze, glass halfway to my lips again. What the hell was he doing here? Enzo said this was our night. Private.

I haven’t ever had sex but trust me when I say imma make that man fight me for his prize because it left me all kinds of turned on and ready to kick everyone out of the room so I could see what all the hype is about. “Are you even listening” Vic asks harshly from the doorway. “No I was to busy thinking about your dick” Kimberly sputters, YS starts cackling like a fucking hyena and two guys I have yet to meet choke on their own spit as they try to compose myself. “The new Dona, she no filter” one of the new guys says through is thick Italian accent. “No she doesn’t, but you’ll get used to it” comes a familiar voice.

Someone just shot him and whoever they were, they didn't miss. Fucking Lombardi is dead. **************************************************

“Speak Up! Now!” Oh God.

Elio held our son, tucking the badge coiled with the black mamba into his swaddling. "From today, he is my sole heir." Cheers erupted, but the guests whispered in awe. "This Donna is legendary… ruling the Rossi family herself, and she's Elio Massimo's Donna too…" "Tsk," another sneered. "Heard the old Don Rossi shot himself. And Don Colombo… was found dead at the docks this morning. Enemy work, probably." In a corner of the hall, my consigliere quietly handed me a letter. "Madre… Don Colombo's final note."