Don Bowed To Me Chapter 34
8:47 p.m.
Marchetti soldiers stormed an abandoned warehouse in north Newport.
Vincenzo had been waiting there for six hours.
His original plan was to load Isabella into a black Escalade at nine o’clock.
Then deliver her to a private dock on the east side of Providence airport.
The destination had never been São Paulo.
It was Boston.
A private dock belonging to the Rizzo family.
Vincenzo intended to hand Isabella over to Ezio Rizzo.
Because she had once lived in the Marchetti estate for six weeks.
She knew the layout of the compound, the daily routines of family members, which capos came to report and when.
To the Rizzos.
She wasn’t just an ordinary woman—she was a piece of living intelligence.
Vincenzo wanted to trade her for the Rizzo family’s protection in South America over the next several years.
But he hadn’t anticipated that Marchetti’s men would find her first.
The moment Vincenzo raised his gun.
Two soldiers fired simultaneously.
The bullets shattered his kneecap. He collapsed.
No one killed him.
Because Don Salvatore had made it explicitly clear—
Vincenzo must be kept alive.
Enzo Bellandi relayed all of this to me over the phone.
I was in the study on the second floor of the estate.
“Isabella was bound for six hours in a small room on the west side of the warehouse.”
“No other serious injuries detected at this time.”
“Vincenzo is alive.”
“Don Salvatore says the decision on what to do with him is yours.”
I looked out the window. The waves beyond Cliff Walk crashed endlessly against the cliffs.
I said: “Vincenzo is Don Salvatore’s to handle.”
“I won’t be involved.”
“Understood.”
I paused.
“Send Isabella back to New York.”
“Have the Marchetti family’s private physician look after her.”
“Once she’s conscious.”
“Tell her she’s free. The Vitale family won’t come after her. Neither will the Marchettis.”
“I’m giving her one year. After that, where she goes and what she does is entirely her own decision.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
“From tonight, I am no longer her sister.”
Silence on the other end.
I looked at the sea.
“But I am the person who kept her alive.”
“Let her figure that out on her own.”
“Understood.”
The call ended.
Footsteps behind me.
Sebastian walked up beside me.
His hand rested gently on my shoulder.
“Hazel.”
I didn’t turn around.
“Sebastian.”
“Mm.”
“This is the last thing I will ever do for her.”
Sebastian didn’t answer.
He simply turned me by the shoulders.
And pulled me into his arms.
His chin rested on the top of my head.
“Hazel.”
“I know.”
Three days later.
The small chapel beneath the Marchetti manor.
Since 1912.
The family’s important weddings, baptisms, and funerals had all been held here.
At the center of the chapel stood an ancestral statue of the Madonna.
Sebastian pushed the chapel door open.
It closed behind us.
Only the eternal flame at the Madonna’s feet flickered gently.
Sebastian walked to the statue and stopped.
Then turned back to look at me.
“Hazel.”
“Come here.”
I walked to his side.
Sebastian slowly knelt.
His injured arm still hadn’t fully healed.
Yet he drew the black onyx ring from his inner breast pocket.
“Hazel Vitale.”
His voice echoed beneath the vaulted ceiling.
“Six months ago. The day of Matteo’s wedding.”
“When Nonno stopped you in the Great Hall.”
“I was standing in the doorway—that was the first time I saw you.”
“You turned and looked at Nonno.”
“I remember your eyes.”
He paused.
His eyes slowly reddened.
“Hazel, you don’t need me to give you anything.”
“You already have your own career, your own name, your own strength.”
“You even have an entire family willing to stand for you.”
“So there’s nothing I can give you.”
He held the ring in his palm.
“Except myself.”
His voice dropped low.
“From today on, every time you turn around—I’ll be behind you.”
He looked at me.
“I’m not trying to give you the Marchetti family.”
“The Marchetti family already chose you.”
“What I want to give you.”
“Is a home.”
“A place where you don’t have to carry everything alone.”
He drew a deep breath.
“Hazel Vitale.”
“Will you marry me?”
The chapel fell silent.
The flame at the Madonna’s feet wavered gently.
I looked at him. Took the ring from his hand.
Sebastian’s breath stopped for an instant.
But I didn’t put it on.
I placed the ring back in his palm.
“Sebastian Marchetti, you put it on me.”
His eyes went red in an instant.
He slowly stood.
Then took my left hand.
A perfect fit.
I looked up.
Sebastian gazed at the ring, and then he smiled.
“Hazel.”
“From today, you are the future Donna Hazel Marchetti.”
I shook my head.
“Sebastian, I’m still Hazel Vitale.”
He blinked.
A few seconds later.
He smiled.
“Okay.”
He looked down at me.
“You’re still Hazel Vitale.”
“Always.”