Donna Tartt Novels & Stories

His voice was audacious and assertive. Her fury exploded. "I won't let that happen! If you think you can just..." Danny cut her off and pulled out a set of pictures from his jacket. As he tossed them onto the table, Donna's breath hitched as her own face stared back at her from the picture. She was caught in intimate moments with not just one but three different men. A well-known director, a wealthy businessman, and another man whom she swore to be just a 'friend.' "I must say, Donna," Danny smirked. "You've been living a very colorful life."

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.

Viola's POV When I submitted my resignation letter to the secretariat, the staff member looked shocked. "Viola Conti, you're leaving the Derocchi family?" The Don's private secretary was a respectable, well-compensated position. He couldn't understand why I would give it up. "Sì." I smiled and delivered the excuse I'd prepared long ago. "My husband left me an inheritance in Melbir. I'm planning to take my son and live there." It wasn't a particularly clever excuse. But for seven years, everyone believed I was just a single mother raising a child on my own. No one knew that the "husband" I spoke of was actually the Don of the Derocchi family, Aido Derocchi.

However, she still smiled and nodded, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You too. Get some rest.” Then she turned and left. Once her figure had disappeared from the doorway, Paul immediately called his aide. “Why is Emily’s number invalid? Has our intelligence system failed, or did the donna disappear and I’m the last to know?” His voice was cold as ice, sending a chill down the aide’s spine. “Don Garcia, actually, on the day you entered surgery, we already received news that Donna Emily had left the country. But during this time, you were…”

They all started trying to mediate. "Donna, the Don's just been injured. Maybe his mind's unsettled." "Yeah, just let Camilla try for now. In seven days." Seven days? They thought I would hand over my position and wait quietly for Camilla to take my credit and rise to power? I gave a sharp, humorless laugh. "Why bother going in circles? I'm filing for a divorce right now."

I heard all of this through lawyers and news alerts. My own life became beautifully ordinary. I hired two more consultants. I learned which bakery made the best custard tarts. I bought a rocking chair and assembled it badly, then let my neighbor fix it while laughing at me in Portuguese. I went to birthing classes where no one cared who my ex-husband was. They cared whether I could breathe through pain, which turned out to be a skill I had been practicing for years.

At the family’s most prestigious gala, my husband—the Don, Alexander—arrived with his secretary, Elena, on his arm. Pinned to her chest was the ruby brooch that symbolized the position of the donna, the mistress of the family. Before I could even speak, Alexander glanced at me with casual indifference. "Ivy, don't be so petty." He wiped the corner of his mouth elegantly with a napkin, his tone suggesting this was entirely reasonable. "Elena took a bullet for me. She liked the brooch, so I let her borrow it for a while. Regardless, you are the only donna here. Try to show some class."

In the chat window lay the message I had sent him hours earlier: "Are you done?" He called me. No answer. He called again. Still no answer. He summoned his assistant, Dante Russo. "Call Carlo. Ask if my wife is still there." The assistant made the call. His face changed. "Mr. Bellandi, Carlo said Donna waited until midnight, then left. She left alone." Something inside Matteo suddenly went hollow. He thrust the child into the nanny's arms and turned toward the door. Sienna chased after him. "Matteo! Where are you going? The ceremony isn't finished!"

She sits down facing me, “Who are you?” I lift my eyebrow, “I am Noelle?” Donna commands, “Close your eyes.” I sigh and close my eyes. “Now who are you?” she asks again “I am Noelle,” I say. “Who is Noelle, who are you?” she asks. “I am a woman, I am a wife, I am a witch, I am a friend,” Donna stays silent and nothing happens, so I continue, “I am feisty, I am loyal, I am an or-phan, I am smart,” I say.

She waves her hands in excitement. “We shall trust your judgment, Donna,” Margo gushes and we watch as she sweeps out in a flurry of red chiffon and a clip clop of heels. The cyclone that is Donna Moore. The energy in the room calms and I almost sag with relief. “Is this necessary?” I get off the stool, relieved at being released, feeling like a full-size Barbie doll.