The Donna: Bought, Loved, AbandonedChapter 1

Everyone in New Volka's underground world knows that the young Don Lorenzo Corsi is a cold-blooded lunatic. He only shows his gentle side to me.

Seven years ago, Lorenzo saves me from an underground casino that belongs to the Corsi family. He also pays off my sickly Padre's astronomical medical bill on my behalf.

He slips the family heirloom diamond ring that identifies me as the Donna of the family on my finger. When the heads of the family oppose his decision, he declares that he will only accept me as his wife in his lifetime.

I once believed I was the only one he favored, but everything changed when his childhood friend, Viviana Rossi, returned to New Volka and became the family's new Consigliere.

Lorenzo silently allows her to sit next to the main seat during family banquets—the spot that used to exclusively belong to me.

"The Rossi family took a heavy blow for my sake in the past, Clara," he says. "I have to compensate her. However, my heart and the position of 'Mrs. Corsi' will forever belong to you."

I believe Lorenzo's words, giving in time and time again as I remain by his side through seven bloody and turbulent years.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, a rival family bombs our estate in the suburbs. Lorenzo rushes into the collapsing banquet hall and picks Viviana up.

Although I'm three months pregnant, he says, "You're the strongest, Clara. Just hold on for three minutes. I'll come back for you once I send her to the bulletproof car."

Three minutes pass, but Lorenzo still hasn't come back.

The baby is gone when I regain consciousness. I also lose the ability to become a mother for the rest of my days. I calmly withdrew my hand and looked at Lorenzo, who had sunk to one knee beside the bed, overcome with remorse.

Seven years ago, he saved Papa's life on my behalf. I've already paid off my debt to him with the seven years I spent with him and my child's life.

I will leave his empire completely and live the rest of my life without him.

* * *

"I've already hired the best specialist from Bossotini," my husband, Lorenzo Corsi, said. "As long as there's still a way—"

"Mr. Corsi," the doctor said, interrupting him. "Mi dispiace, but we weren't able to save the child. We also had to remove your wife's uterus to stop the bleeding."

Lorenzo tightened his grip on the report.

I didn't cry. Instead, I just asked the doctor for the things that were found in the wreckage. The nurse handed me a transparent bag with a scorched ultrasound photo inside.

The child had only been 12 weeks old. Their face had been so tiny that it was hard to make out their features.

Lorenzo had slipped the photo into the inner pocket of his coat during the banquet, telling me that he would announce the news to the entire family after the cake-cutting ceremony.

Nearly half of the photo had been burned away, but his coat was still in pristine condition as it draped across Viviana Rossi's figure.

Lorenzo leaned down and pulled me into his arms. "I truly believed that you would walk out unscathed, Clara. The car was just outside. I thought that I would make it in time—"

"Did you come back?" I asked.

Lorenzo's arms stiffened.

Just then, the hospital room door swung open. The Underboss, Matteo Scaglione, said in a low voice, "Ms. Rossi is awake, Don Corsi. The doctor said that she's in shock. She's only willing to let you get close to her. The elder of the Rossi family is also waiting for you."

Lorenzo shook his head. "Let them wait."

However, his phone rang a few seconds later. Viviana was calling him. Her voice was thick with tears when it echoed from the receiver after he picked up.

"Can you accompany me for a little while?"

Lorenzo looked at me. His expression suggested that he wanted me to decide for him.

Seven years ago, he tore the medical bill reimbursement contract to shreds as everyone in the casino watched. He told me that I would never need to beg anyone for anything ever again.

I didn't want to beg him to stay anymore. "You should go."

Lorenzo immediately pressed the call button for me, saying, "It'll only take 30 minutes at most. I'll return to your side then."

It didn't take long for his footsteps to fade into the distance.

Half an hour later, a nurse entered my hospital room to wipe me down. I subconsciously glanced at the door.

"Your husband isn't back yet?" she asked.

"He said that he'll be back soon."

The nurse prepared some warm water before leaving to check on the patient next door. I stared at the clock on the wall. The door remained closed even after a full minute had passed.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Lorenzo's number, but the person who picked up was Matteo.

"The Don is accompanying Ms. Rossi for a check-up. Do you need something, Mrs. Corsi? I can pass your message to him."

I gripped the edge of the blanket. I had only been willing to let Lorenzo see the pathetic side of me that needed somebody else's help to sit up.

"No need," I said.

When the nurse returned, I let go of the blanket and asked her to help me. The movement strained my wound when I turned on my side. The pain was so overwhelming that I briefly clutched the nurse's sleeve before hastily letting go.

The nurse grabbed my shoulders to steady me, telling me that it was alright. After she wiped me down, she placed a glass of water near me and raised the headboard.

I thanked her softly and didn't look at the door again.

…

Lorenzo didn't return even when the afternoon rolled around.

I told the nurse to pass me my phone and dialed my lawyer, Irene Tambroni's number.

"Prepare a divorce agreement for me. And also a list of assets that are financially unrelated to the Corsi family."

Irene didn't question me. Instead, she asked, "When do you plan to leave?"

I looked at the calendar. The doctor had scheduled my last follow-up appointment for next week. Once the check-up was over, I could leave New Volka by car according to the doctor's instructions.

"In a week," I answered.

I slipped the ultrasound photo into my bag. I wasn't going to wait three minutes or half an hour for Lorenzo anymore.