The Mad Donna He Never Really Married

The Mad Donna He Never Really Married

For three years, I was Donna of the rising Valenti family.

One day, Enzo was holding a meeting at a private cigar club. I worried about his stomach issues, so I went to bring him his usual antacids.

Standing outside the private room, I heard his men laughing.

“Don Enzo, are you really going to keep Clara hidden away at the Silver Lake villa forever?”

“That mad Moretti heiress in the main house is still parading around as Donna of the Valenti family.”

Enzo rubbed the bridge of his nose and scoffed.

“If she hadn’t taken a bullet to the head for me and gone insane, and if I hadn’t desperately needed her family’s capital, I never would have married a woman with no blood ties to the life.”

“But Clara is my legal wife. The family trust, the marriage certificate at City Hall, it’s all in her name.”

“Stella’s just a plaything I keep at the main house. Once Clara gives birth to an heir, I’ll bring her home for good.”

My knuckles turned white as I squeezed the small box of medicine, the cardboard crumpling in my hand.

He had exchanged blood oaths and rings with me in the church, yet it was Clara who had signed the papers at City Hall.

He played me for a fool, all to keep Clara’s reputation clean.

Clutching the box, I turned and melted back into the shadows.

He had no idea my sanity had returned three days ago.

He would never guess I had already sent an encrypted message to my brother, who runs a business empire from our home in Solaria, far across the sea.

I was done with this goddamn Valenti title.

In my third year as Don Enzo’s wife, and my third year deemed insane, I discovered the name on his marriage certificate wasn’t mine. It belonged to his so-called adopted sister.

While Enzo gloated, he had no idea I had already pulled the financial backing I brought to the marriage, or that I had sent a message to my brother.

What he didn't know was that three days ago, my mind had fully recovered.

I tossed the box of antacids into the roaring fireplace. My maid, Sofia, steadied my arm and walked me back to the main house.

Three days ago, the best doctor in Solaria secretly flew in to administer the final antidote. I could think and perceive everything perfectly now.

The doctor advised me to wear a black silk veil for a few more days to prevent sensory overload. The black veil became my best disguise.

Just as I stepped into the grand hall, Enzo approached, trailing the faint scent of gunpowder and cigars.

He grabbed my wrist. “Stella, what are you doing in the front hall alone? Where are your bodyguards?”

I let him hold my arm, playing the part.

Three years ago, these same calloused hands had lifted me from a pool of my own blood.

To save him, I had taken a bullet meant for him during an assassination attempt by a rival family.

The severe head trauma had shattered my mind, leaving me in a state of deep psychosis.

He knelt at my bedside, making a blood oath to give me the grandest mafia wedding and swearing he would suffer a thousand cuts if he ever betrayed me.

He gave me a motorcade of dozens of armored cars.

He put me in charge of all the Valenti family’s legitimate businesses and internal affairs.

The entire underworld called me Donna with respect.

I pulled my wrist from his grasp. “You’re flushed, Don Enzo. Sofia, fetch a cold towel.”

Enzo sank into the leather sofa and loosened his tie. “Some capos were fighting over territory. Gave me a headache.”

I feigned a sluggish fumble for a glass of bourbon and pushed it toward him. “The capos are only looking out for the family.”

“I heard you entertained a special guest at the club today.”

Enzo’s hand froze mid-sip. The crystal glass hit the table with a thud.

He leaned his head back against the sofa. “What special guest? Just a few partners on the smuggling routes.”

“Why are you worrying about these things? The doctor said your brain can’t handle the stress.”

From behind the black veil, I maintained my “vacant” stare at his face. “I had someone review the family’s assets today.”

“I’m preparing for the Saint’s Festival next month. And while I was at it, I wanted to see the family trust agreement.”

Enzo shot to his feet, his suit cuff knocking over the glass of bourbon. The amber liquid spilled across the carpet.

He stared at the stain, his voice tight. “Why the sudden interest in the trust?”

I settled back into the sofa, my posture relaxed. “We’ve been married for three years, and I have yet to attend a family roundtable as the official Donna.”

“It seems my name isn’t on the trust list yet, is it?”

“With the Saint’s Festival approaching, it’s about time we made my position legally official, don’t you think?”

Enzo knelt before me, taking my hands in his and sighing.

“Stella, it’s not that I don’t want to give you the official title.”

“It’s the old guard. They’re prejudiced against your foreign blood. They think your family is just a bunch of merchants from some backwater port, not part of the life. They’re holding up the paperwork.”

He lowered his head, his cool lips brushing against my knuckles. “Just give me a little more time.”

“Once I take control of the East Coast ports, I’ll have absolute power. Let’s see which capo dares to stand in my way then.”

I looked down at him.

I had used the Moretti family’s financial network to launder his money. I had funneled a fortune to bribe his political connections.

I thought I was paving the way for our criminal empire. It turns out, I was just building a future for him and Clara.

I nodded in agreement. “Fine. I trust you.”

Enzo stood up, satisfied. “That’s my girl. You just focus on getting better. If you want any jewelry, just tell the bookkeeper.”

He reached out to caress my face, but I turned away. “I’m tired. Sleep in the study tonight.”

Enzo’s hand froze in mid-air. His eyes narrowed, a dark look clouding his features.

He slowly pulled his hand back, his tone turning cold. “Then get some rest. I have to check on a shipment at the docks tomorrow. I’ll be back late.”

I gave a simple acknowledgment.

As he disappeared around the bend of the staircase, I summoned Sofia.

“Go to the Crimson Gallery in the city and find the manager, Antonio.”

“Tell him the Moretti heiress requires a full audit.”