The Don's Favorite lover Vanished (by Melissa Z) novel Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The day of my birthday had arrived, and the celebration was set against the picturesque backdrop of my gallery, nestled along the serene banks of the Arno. The air was thick with anticipation as the crème de la crème of Florence gathered, their laughter and chatter mingling like a symphony. Alessandro had gone all out, commissioning a magnificent cake that towered like a small monument, adorned with delicate sugar flowers that sparkled under the warm lights.

As the moment approached, I felt a flutter of nerves dance in my stomach. Alessandro, with his charming smile and warm demeanor, took center stage. He knelt before me, the velvet box glinting in his hands, and uttered the words I had dreamt of hearing.

“Bella Fiore,” he said, his gaze earnest and unwavering, “Will you marry me?”

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by a wave of applause that filled the room with a euphoric energy. I turned my attention back to Alessandro, envisioning the clean, stable future he represented—a life filled with love, laughter, and the promise of forever.

In that moment, I should have said yes.

But just as the word formed on my lips, the heavy oak doors of the gallery swung open with a dramatic creak, interrupting the blissful atmosphere. There stood Vincenzo, a specter in a black tuxedo, framed against the night like a haunting shadow.

He wore a pristine white rose on his lapel, and his face was as pale as marble, giving him an otherworldly appearance. The stunned silence of the room enveloped him, yet he paid no heed. With a determined stride, he made his way through the crowd, two of my bodyguards attempting to intercept him. But Marco emerged from behind them, his demeanor cold and menacing, pressing a gun to each of their heads.

“Step aside,” Marco commanded, his voice as chilling as winter air.

Vincenzo brushed past Alessandro, who remained frozen in shock, as if he were merely a piece of furniture in the grand room. He approached me, a fierce intensity in his gaze, and placed a thick stack of documents and a black, sigil-engraved ring on the table before me.

The documents represented the transfer of ownership for all core Russo assets in Chicago, a testament to his power and authority. The signet ring of the Don gleamed ominously, a symbol of his ultimate dominion.

Then, in an act that sent a wave of disbelief through the room, the man who once commanded the Chicago underworld slowly sank to one knee.

“I’m trading my kingdom,” he said, looking up at me, his eyes ablaze with a fervent, obsessive passion, “for my queen.”

He opened a small box, revealing the black diamond ring that had once been the object of my deepest desires, a relic of the Russo matriarch.

“Chiara,” he implored, his voice raw with emotion. “Marry me.”

The gallery fell into a profound silence, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. I gazed at him, at the kingdom he offered, at the ring that sparkled with promises of power and prestige.

Once, this had been everything I had ever longed for.

But now, it felt utterly pathetic.

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