Divorcing the Don

ella

the estate, this room was a sanctuary of ruthless pragmatism. It resembled a modern CEO's office-a massive mahogany desk dominated the center, flanked by dar

ged war at the borders, I had ruled the Moretti fa

rame instantly suffocating the room. The dark, lethal aura of the Don rolled off him in waves. Close behind him were Nonna Ele

desk, leaning over me. "You do not walk a

sing to shrink back. "And you do

most loyal *Capos* (Captains). He took a bullet meant for my skull. As he bled out, I gave him my word I would protect his

honor," I mocked, my voice dripping with venom. "Tell me, Damien, where was this profound Moretti honor when your family was bankrupt? When

na Elena stepped forward, her wrink

fer. You failed your primary duty. Six years, Isabella, and your womb remains empty. *Sei sterile* (You a

last fragile threads of my heart. I looked at Damien, waiting for him

s silence was a dea

dead, flat whisper. "I will not play the dutiful wife whi

nce, always a finite resource, evaporated. He stood to his full height, the abs

demanded absolute submission. "It is a *Don's Command*. Cora and the children stay. They will be tre

treason; to question it was a death sentence. He had just weapo

The agonizing pain in my chest vanished, replaced by a terrifying, crystalline clarity. He h

a chilling, emotionless calm. If he wanted to rule by absolute de