Donna Riverdale

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.

I fought my sister, Anna, for two lifetimes to become the Donna. In my first life, I got what I wanted. I became Lorenzo's woman. People said he loved me as if I were the air in his lungs. When he learned that I loved to dance, he bought an entire ballet company to keep me onstage. Then he broke my legs. He confined me to a wheelchair and displayed me like an ornament. One day, he brushed his fingers across my face and finally told me the truth. "I've seen enough dancing," he said. "And the one I truly love was never you." I died in that room, swallowed by despair. In my second life, I stepped aside and gave the Donna's seat to Anna. "You go," I told her. "The one Lorenzo really loves is you." I believed that choice would save us. I believed Anna would have the happy ending I never did. Five years later, they sent her back. Her legs were intact this time, but she couldn’t move them either. Lorenzo no longer treated her as a person. He had turned her into a ballerina statue, encased in plaster and posed at what he called her most beautiful moment, frozen in place. His men delivered the message without a trace of feeling. "He got tired of watching the younger sister dance," they said. "So he preserved her at her most beautiful." When I opened my eyes again, I found myself in my third life. Once more, the Don's men delivered a ballet invitation. Anna and I stared at it. The same question burned in both of us. If neither of us was the one he loved, then who was Lorenzo really watching?

On the day my dad, the Don of the Capone family, comes to the orphanage to take me home, I show up in a tactical helmet and a bulletproof vest. "I'm not going home with you. You're definitely doing this to trick me into getting married to a perverted old geezer in a marriage alliance. I bet my adopted sister has made preparations to start fake-crying anytime by loading up on her eyedrops." My dad is amused, to say the least. "Why would any of that happen? Silvia is nothing but welcoming you to our home! Also, our family isn't a lowly organization that deals with human trafficking." But I refuse to believe my dad at all. On the way home, I keep typing something on my phone. My mom, the Donna, leans over curiously. "Are you writing a diary entry?" "Nope. I'm writing tips on 'How to Survive the Mafia.'" 1) My food will definitely be poisoned. 2) If I get close to a staircase, I'll definitely get pushed down the stairs. 3) I'll get framed for something that I've never done before. My parents swear to me that none of the things I've written will ever happen. They tell me that my adopted sister, Silvia Capone, has a great personality, and things are amicable in the family. However, everything changes when Silvia brings me a glass of juice before lunchtime and insists on watching me drink it. Instead, I dump the juice into a nearby vase of flowers. Just as my parents are about to scold me for wasting the juice, smoke begins drifting from the flowers inside the vase. Then, they start wilting rapidly. I calmly leave a bright red checkmark behind the "poison" tip. As my parents stare at the dead flowers, they can feel color draining from their faces. "You should send the juice to a chem lab for analysis."

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!

Durante cinco años, Marco Falcone fue el hombre perfecto. O al menos eso creía. La ilusión se rompió en la noche de nuestra fiesta de compromiso, cuando su amante irrumpió, acompañada de un niño de cinco años. El niño corrió directamente hacia Marco, llorando: —¡Papá! ¡Papá, finalmente te encontré! Tenía que ser algún tipo de cruel broma. Pero entonces Marco se volvió hacia mí, con la voz despojada de toda calidez: —Este es mi hijo, Leo. Un… error que Sofia y yo cometimos hace cinco años. —Leo es el heredero de los Falcone. Tengo que legitimarlo. Eso significa que primero me comprometeré con Sofia. —Pero Lydia, créeme, todavía te amo. Podemos celebrar nuestra fiesta de compromiso en seis meses. Vas a ser la Donna de la familia Falcone. Espero que seas generosa y comprensiva. Esto no es negociable. Reí, un sonido frío y cortante, y deslicé el anillo de compromiso de mi dedo. Mis ojos recorrieron la sala y se fijaron en el hombre en la esquina: Lorenzo Moretti, el Don más poderoso de Nueva York. Tenía otro título, uno que solo yo conocía: el hombre que había estado tratando de hacerme suya. —Don Moretti, —llamé, con la voz clara y firme—. Me encuentro en necesidad de un nuevo prometido. ¿Está interesado?

I hid behind the study curtains, heart racing with a fragile, trembling joy. In my hands: an ultrasound photo—two heartbeats—and a no-limit black card. Alessandro had given it to me last night, his lips on my neck, calling me his Donna, his queen. Tonight, I was going to tell him about the twins. "The Petrov family needs to see my good faith," his voice drifted in, smooth as velvet. "Vittoria arrives Thursday. I’ll announce the engagement then." My blood froze. "What about Elena?" someone asked. "She’s been with you three years. She manages the books, dug that slug out of your side herself. Is this fair to her?" "Elena?" He leaned back in the leather chair, cigar smoke curling around his jaw. "She’s like a trained hound, Salvatore. After the Rossi family got wiped out, I pulled her from the gutter, gave her a gun and a bed. Have you ever seen a hound leave its master? I could kick her, and she would lick my boot and ask for another." My nails sank into my palms, crumpling the ultrasound. "Aren’t you afraid she’ll leave?" Marco, his Capo, asked. Alessandro paused. Then he said: "She would die for me without question. How could she ever leave?" Those words struck my chest like two 9mm rounds. I didn't wait. I ran through the cemetery, past the tombs of dead Dons, and hurled that card into the Hudson. I vanished into the night with his heirs in my womb and three years of lies in my throat. "I'm sorry, my babies," I whispered to my belly. "Mommy was a fool." But I wouldn't be a fool anymore.

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.

Son regard se posa de nouveau sur moi, lent et scrutateur. Puis, sans prévenir, ses mains se levèrent et se refermèrent sur ma gorge. Je haletai, griffant instinctivement ses bras. Il ne bougea pas. Désobéis-moi encore, dit-il d'une voix basse et froide, et la prochaine fois, on ne comptera pas. Même tremblante, je relevai le menton. Alors ne confonds pas silence et obéissance, dis-je d'une voix rauque. La voix de Carlino suivit, calme, absolue, comme si de rien n'était. Ferme-la à clé ce soir. C'est alors que tout s'est stabilisé. Il n'y avait aucune pitié. Aucune exagération. Chaque mot, chaque menace, il les pensait vraiment. Il ne prétendait pas être le diable. Il ne prenait tout simplement pas la peine de le cacher. --- Elle le hait. Il refuse de se laisser la désirer. Lina Gray n'aurait jamais cru que l'amour la trahirait. Jusqu'à ce que l'homme en qui elle avait confiance la trahisse pour éponger ses dettes. Livrée entre les mains de Carlino Lacentra, le parrain de la mafia dont le nom suffit à imposer sa loi, Lina est privée de tout choix et couronnée Donna pour s'assurer un trône qu'elle n'a jamais désiré. Dans son monde, le pouvoir fait loi, la loyauté est monnaie courante, et une femme aux côtés du roi n'est jamais une simple femme.