Regrets Of The Don His Beloved Novels & Stories

“She’s pregnant.” “I know.” “You told me she’d be gone.” “I was going to—” “You keep saying that,” Grace interrupted. “But somehow, everything you 'were going to' never happened.” Ethan stepped around the table, his voice low. “Grace. It wasn’t love.” “It wasn’t respect either.” He paused. “I made a terrible mistake.” “You made a choice.” “For what it’s worth,” he whispered, “I regret it.” She looked at him long and hard. “Regret doesn’t bring back trust. Or time. Or—”

He shut his eyes tightly and clenched his jaw so hard, the veins in his neck were visible. The bastards that took everything away from him were roaming the streets freely, while he mourned the loss of the only woman his ever truly loved. He was in immense pain, even though it’s been two years after her death, He felt lost and completely succumbed by his hatred to get revenge. His thoughts were disturbed by his chief advisor known as the consigliere. “Don, abbiamo saputo di uno degli uomini” {“Don we got word about one of the men”}

He then sat up straight clearing his throat. I really don't have time for this, but somehow I sat and listened. “ Before Linnet's mum, I used to love another woman. I was Don but I wasn't officially married yet.” He paused, staring into space. I could see the regret in his eyes. “ She was the best thing on earth…I haven't met a woman who could get on my nerves and at the same time get me to my knees. She was so unpredictable and beautiful. I loved her ....I did but I was a coward like most of us here. " He paused, then looked at me.

He read about how I researched cooking the best foods to nourish them back to health, only for them to complain about how disgusting it was… Ever since I rescued them, all my grievances had finally come to light. Raffaello dug his nails into his palms as if trying to punish himself. His palms started bleeding, but he insisted on finishing my diary. When he finished the last page, he finally broke down, sobbing, "I was wrong, Grace! Oh so wrong! I… I can't even do anything, it's all too late!" No matter how much he regretted it, I was gone. I could no longer come back. I could no longer pull him into my arms and gently pat his back to console him. There was never going to be another Grace in

"I'm not a visitor. I'm his fiancée." "The Don's orders." "Let me through." "I can't." I look at him. Really look. He is young — new, maybe. He doesn't know me. Doesn't know what I am capable of. "Do you know who I am?" I ask. "Yes, Signorina." "Then you know that in a few months, I will be the Don's wife. I will be the woman giving orders in this house. And men like you — men who stand in my way — will be the first to go."

*** Nonna Rosa received the news with a complicated mixture of grief and grim satisfaction, her weathered hands trembling slightly as Dante recounted the previous night's conversation, careful to include every detail about Renata that Tomas had shared. "I remember her," Nonna Rosa said quietly, something distant and sorrowful entering her voice. "I was young then, newly married into this family, still naive enough to believe love could survive men like your grandfather and father. I remember thinking, even then, that something about her disappearance felt wrong, though I never had the courage to ask the questions I suspected would carry unwelcome answers." *** "You knew," I said carefully.

"I swear it." At the doorway, the heavy timber door creaked open. Don Gennaro stepped into the room slowly, leaning heavily on a brass wheelchair pushed by Lucrezia. His face was gray with his own failing health, but as his clouded eyes locked onto the small screen and heard the fast, rhythmic heartbeat filling the room, he buried his face in his trembling, liver-spotted hands. The old Don wept quietly, his frail shoulders shaking with a deep, silent relief that seemed to wash away thirty years of regret in a single moment.

With bloodshot eyes, he whispered the same words over and over again, "Bianca, I regret it. Please come back…" Unfortunately, regret couldn't change the past. Bianca Moretti, who had loved him with her entire being, was gone forever, lost to the icy and unforgiving judgment chair.

"I don't care. But make sure of one thing. Never regret your decisions right now. Because the way you're doing this might end up with something that will only hurt the both of us." Callum turned around. And left. Elise stood frozen in place. She watched her husband's back disappear down the hallway, then smiled bitterly. "Elise Voss," Elise whispered softly. "It seems I can finally accept that name now... after hearing it from you."

He ran and ran, and he never got any closer. Then, at the edge of the territory, right at the border, he stopped. He couldn't go any further. He'd made the Alpha command himself. Let her go. He stood in the middle of the road under the moonlight and threw his head back and howled one last time. Then he fell to the ground and didn't get back up. I turned around and put both hands on my stomach and closed my eyes. "I'm sorry, baby," I whispered. "I'm so sorry." That was the last time I saw Lucien Blackwood for five years.