Page 43 of Forgive Me, Father (Don #1)

THIRTY-FIVE

THE WHITE RABBIT

My life had never felt more complete. My bride had awakened something in me that silenced the darkness within, overpowering the demon I carried.

The sex turned up a notch and we spent more time in the dungeon than in our bedroom.

I never imagined in a million years that she would be the light to my darkness, bringing me a kind of peace I never thought possible.

The fact that she hadn’t fallen pregnant yet was a mercy. A miracle.

I never fucked so much in my entire life. It felt like all I ever wanted, and somehow, it seemed like it was all she wanted too. We were a fucking beautiful, chaotic mess, tangled up in each other.

I just fell asleep when my phone rang. My eyes burned as I opened them and felt for the fucking thing on the nightstand. It was Roberto.

I grabbed the phone and immediately heard the urgency in his voice as he snapped, "Alfonso, get your ass home now."

“What happened?” I spoke as softly as I could and got out of bed.

“Not over the phone, but it’s bad.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Everything okay?” Camilla asked.

“I have to go home.”

“What happened?” Cami was wide awake too.

I gently cupped the side of her face with my hand. “Roberto doesn’t want to say it over the phone, but he confirmed it’s bad. Just go back to sleep, alright?”

“I want to come with you.”

“No, you stay here. You’ll be safe. I’ll call you in the morning, I promise.” I leaned in for a quick but passionate kiss before rushing to the bathroom to get dressed.

Half an hour later, Nico and I were in the air, heading toward the house I grew up in. Two hours later, the plane touched down, and Roberto was waiting for us.

Nico jumped in the front of the SUV with Lenny, who was one of my brother’s guards, as we took the back.

“What the fuck happened?” I asked, not waiting for him to tell me.

“It’s Fiona?”

I growled. What shit has she gotten into this fucking time?

“No,” he cut in. “Kai almost fucking killed her.”

A chill of unease crawled down my spine. My sister was always a pain in my ass but hearing that she was with Kai set my blood on fire.

“He raped her and almost cut her throat. He sent her back with this.”

My brother gave me the piece of paper. “Eye for an eye. I’ll be back.”

His name wasn’t on the note, but we both knew it was Kai. Eye for an eye meant my sister for his.

“She saw him?”

Roberto shook his head. “But I know it’s him.”

I did too.

“Dad has no choice but to take action, Alfonso.”

“He’s not going to take action, Roberto. He believes the old way is over, done, kaput.” I ran my hands through my hair as the imposing mansion that served as HQ came into view.

My entire body tensed as the gates swung open, and the SUV rolled into the one place where my darkness had first taken root. It was almost as if the house was welcoming me home.

* * *

For the next half hour, I worked to convince my father that Kai had to be behind it. Even Roberto stood by me, his voice steady with agreement.

My mother was with Fiona and my younger brother, Luca, at the hospital. Her absence only made the weight of the situation press harder on my shoulders.

“She is your daughter and all you care about is some fucking animal that is going to take everything the Pontisellos worked hard for through the generations. I won’t let that happen. Do you hear me? I refuse to sit aside. So, you can decide what it’s going to be.”

I challenged my father openly. If I had to go to war with my own family over this then so be it but I wouldn’t allow that motherfucker to get away with this.

He had taken the opportunity to break my sister and I would not stand for it.

She would no longer be able to marry a Don. Her life was ruined.

“Alfonso.” He sighed, rubbing at his temples.

“Don’t fucking Alfonso me. What is it going to be, Father?”

My father gave a silent nod, finally, the old man’s approval, hard-earned and heavier than I expected.

“Let’s move,” I commanded, striding toward the armory.

He didn’t follow. He never did when it came to this part of ruling. The blood, the bullets, the war, it wasn’t his way. It was mine.

I would burn the world down to punish a betrayal.

The only way to remind the Castellos, and anyone else circling like vultures, that what was ours wasn’t up for negotiation.

The armory door creaked open, revealing the familiar steel cages stacked with weapons, gleaming like old friends waiting for a fight.

As if on cue, every man headed for the racks, reaching for the weapons that felt like extensions of their own rage. These weren’t just soldiers, they were brothers, ready to fight, ready to avenge.

Nico moved fast, his eyes sharp with focus.

He slung a duffel over his shoulder and started filling it, his hands flying over the gear like he’d done it a thousand times.

There was a grin tugging at his lips, the kind of grin only war or chaos could bring out in him.

Like a kid let loose in a candy store, except every sweet came with a trigger.

I reached for the Benelli M4 Super 90, reliable, brutal, mine, and then my preferred Glock 34. Smooth, lethal, efficient.

Without a word, I tossed a handful of magazines to Nico. Today wasn’t about diplomacy. Today was about delivering a message, loud and clear.

As I checked the chamber, Camilla’s face flashed into my mind—soft, fierce, untouchable.

It made me pause. She was mine to protect now—my responsibility, my anchor in a world that never stopped bleeding. I couldn’t charge into this without thinking of her, not anymore.

I slid the Glock 34 into the holster at the small of my back, the cold steel grounding me. The Benelli shotgun hung heavy across my shoulder, a brutal reminder of the storm we were walking into.

I’d call her from the SUV.

In the end, my father joined us—suited up and silent, but ready. Arnie handed him his Heckler & Koch P30L, and without a word, he slid it into the holster at his hip.

I had to give it to him, he might drag his feet when it came to war, but once the line was drawn, he knew how to lead.

“Let’s move,” he said, voice sharp and steady. We fell in behind him without hesitation.

I climbed into the SUV with Roberto and my father. We were heading to Frederick’s estate—it wasn’t far, but the air felt heavier the closer we got.

As the engine rumbled beneath us, I pulled out my phone and called Camilla. I needed to hear her voice before everything changed.

“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice soft but edged with worry she clearly didn’t want me to hear.

“She’s hurt—my sister—but she’ll live,” I said, keeping my voice steady, calm. No use dropping the weight of the truth on her now.

“I’m so sorry, Alfonso. What happened?”

“An accident.” A lie, clean and easy, because the truth would only instill fear.

“Send her my love.”

“I will.” I exhaled through my nose, glancing out the window at the blur of streetlights. “I’ll probably be back later tonight.”

“You don’t have to rush back. I’ll be fine.”

I almost smiled. “I hate being away from you this long.” I didn’t care who was listening. Truth didn’t ask for permission.

“Aww, so you miss me, but you don’t love me?” Her tease cut through the heaviness in my chest like a warm knife.

I drew in a breath. She had no idea how easily she quieted the storm.

“Don’t go playing with my toys,” I muttered.

Her laugh was pure mischief. “Party pooper.”

The call got disconnected and the smile disappeared from my lips.

It might not be the last time I heard her voice, but it could be. You never really know.

I typed out a quick message, something simple but real, then slipped the phone into my pocket just as Frederick’s estate came into view around the bend. The air shifted, heavier now. Game face on.

THE LITTLE RUNAWAY

It was a shock to learn Fiona had been in an accident.

The woman was a pain in my ass and the polar opposite of her brothers when it came to how she treated me, but no one deserved to come that close to death.

I was still holding my phone when a message lit up the screen. Just two words.

Ti Amo.

My lips curved before I could stop them. Everyone knows what Ti Amo means. You don’t need to speak a word of Italian to feel its weight.

Did he mean it? Or was he just saying it because I’d teased him earlier?

It didn’t matter. The heat from those two little words spread through my chest like a sunrise.

Three months ago, he’d been a stranger. Now, I couldn’t picture a single version of my life without him in it.

* * *

He didn’t come home either. I was a big girl and could take care of myself perfectly fine.

Today was also the first day of my art lesson. I had been ticking it off on the calendar for the past two weeks.

During the morning, I texted with Alfonso. He wasn’t very talkative but I knew it was because he was busy.

Around eleven, I got a text.

Enjoy your art class.

It brought a smile to my lips as I got ready for my afternoon activity.

Around twelve, I left for my first art class. It was something I wanted to pursue. Alfonso did say I needed a hobby, other than fucking him.

He actually discovered the art classes and enrolled me.

I said goodbye to Nico’s mom as I took one of the smaller cars.

I still stumbled with the steering wheel on the right-hand side.

It was one of those European quirks, and it kept throwing me off, reminding me how everything here felt foreign.

Even the smallest details felt wrong—the street signs, the sounds, the way the air smelled different.

And then there was him. My husband. The man I had known for so long, but lately, he wasn’t the same.

Neither of us was. The shift between us, the quiet things changing, meant we were no longer just two people bound by an agreement.

Something more was emerging, and I couldn’t quite grasp what it was yet.

I barely made it in time and profusely apologized for my tardiness. The teacher nodded and I took my seat behind the only open easel, putting my bag down and taking in my little station filled with water paint tubes, jugs of water, and different shapes of brushes.

“My name is Lorenzo Mancusi and I will be your lector today.”

He spoke about the square and the light the sun provided like an artist.

The sun poured down over the cobblestones of the square, the ancient buildings around us draped in the warm glow of late morning. There was something about this place that felt sacred. The sound of chatter and clinking café cups blended with the occasional ring of church bells.

Lorenzo stood at the center of the group, his dark eyes scanning the vibrant scene before us—locals sipping espresso, the flow of tourists, the soft rustle of pigeons in the piazza’s fountain.

"Look beyond the chaos," he said, his voice sharp yet soothing, "find the quiet moments that hold the true story."

I glanced at my canvas, feeling the weight of his words.

The square was alive with movement, but it was the shadows beneath the archways, the stillness of the statues, that I wanted to capture.

Slowly, I began to paint, letting my brush move without thinking.

I was no longer just observing, I was part of it, part of this timeless rhythm, and the colors on my canvas began to speak the truth I couldn’t put into words.

After class, I lingered for a moment and approached Lorenzo.

"Would you like to grab a coffee? We could talk about the next class, if you're up for it," he offered.

"Sure," I smiled, still buzzing from the lesson. There was a fire inside me, a hunger to learn more. It felt like we had only scratched the surface. I couldn't wait to dive deeper into whatever he had to teach next.

We settled at a small café nearby, the scent of espresso thick in the air.

I ordered a latte, and we dove into a conversation about techniques, color, and the soul of art.

To most people, the passion for brushes and canvases was lost in translation.

But Lorenzo understood. And so, the hours slipped away unnoticed.

Before I realized it, the clock chimed five.

“Crap,” I muttered, glancing at my watch. “I’m so sorry, I have to go.”

Lorenzo chuckled, waving it off. “No worries. I’ll see you next weekend, then?”

“Definitely.” I smiled, reaching for my bag and slinging it over my shoulder. We exchanged goodbyes, and I pulled out my phone, checking for messages. To my surprise, there was nothing from Alfonso. Not a single text.

My brows furrowed in confusion. It wasn’t like Alfonso to ignore me all day. The sudden sting just below my ear made me flinch. At first, I thought it was a bee, but then dizziness swirled over me, and I knew it wasn’t.

Before I could react, my eyes fluttered shut, and the world slipped away, my body crumpling toward the ground.