After He Blinded Me The Don Begged For Forgiveness Chapter 03
The next morning, even though I’d taken the day off, I got a call from the parlor telling me to come in immediately.
When I arrived, Soren was in the middle of a quiet, seething rage.
“If Anna isn’t brought to me, I don’t mind shutting down every massage parlor on this street by tomorrow.”
My footsteps paused. Then I pushed the door open.
“Don’t take it out on them. I’m here.”
His voice was cold.
“Come. You’re leaving with me.”
I didn’t move.
“I’m not going to say it again.”
The corner of my mouth curled.
“And if I refuse?”
“What is it you want to take from me this time? My ears? My life?”
Soren’s breathing turned ragged. He smashed the glass in his hand.
I knew it then—he could no longer keep up the act.
On paper, Soren and I had been godfather and goddaughter.
No—strictly speaking, he was my Padrino. The guardian my parents had chosen for me at my baptism.
When I was twelve, my parents were murdered by the Salazar cartel during a weapons deal on the Mexican border.
I hid beneath a car, hand clamped over my mouth, listening to the gunfire above me from dusk until deep into the night.
It was Soren—ten years older than me—who got the call, and who lifted me out of the pool of blood with his own hands.
In the beginning, all I knew how to do was cry.
At four in the morning, he would push open my door, sit on the edge of my bed, and murmur to me until I calmed.
“From now on,” he said, smoothing my hair, “I’m your family.”
I gripped the cuff of his sleeve and spoke for the first time.
“…Padrino.”
In the blink of an eye, twelve years passed under his protection.
The women in his life came and went, one after another. Only I remained beside him.
On my twenty-second birthday, he dragged me to St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral first thing in the morning.
I laughed at him, told him he looked like a wolf scrambling to claim its meal.
He slipped the Costello emerald ring—passed down three generations—onto my finger, and made his vows.
“I’ve guarded you for twelve years. I can’t let anyone else steal you away.”
“My little girl—you should become my Donna. The lady of the Costello family.”
At the ceremony, the priest gave the blessing in Latin, and the Dons of all Five Families filled the front pews.
I lifted the hem of my dress and turned to look back.
Soren was already weeping.
He pulled me into his arms, his voice cracking as he swore his oath.
“Anna, for the rest of my life, I will protect you. I will love you.”
“From this day, until my last day.”
After we married, I loved the roast lamb leg we had for Sunday lunch. He had the estate’s old cook prepare it the way it was done in the Sicilian countryside, slow-braised for an entire day.
I liked to walk barefoot on the floor, so he had cashmere rugs laid throughout the house and walked them with me.
Every morning when I woke up, I didn’t even have to squeeze my own toothpaste.
Those days were sweet, like a dream I would never wake from.
Until the time he was gone for an entire month, away on some cross-border arms deal, never once returning to the Long Island estate.
I missed him. I brought soup to his social club in Brooklyn.
It was the deepest stronghold of the Costello family—called “Bella Notte,” hidden in the back room behind a pizza parlor.
I pushed open the carved wooden door.
Through the cigar smoke, I saw him—his tie loosened, two buttons of his shirt undone.
A woman was sitting on his lap, a half-burned cigar between her fingers, leaning in to kiss him on the lips.
A half-finished glass of red wine sat on the table. A revolver lay upside down on the mahogany.
My whole body froze.
“Soren, what are you doing?”
He came back to himself with a jolt, stood up, and took the soup from me.
“Anna, what are you doing here?”
My voice trembled. I pointed at the woman. “Who is she?”
“Just a business associate.” He reached for my hand.
I yanked it away.
“What kind of business associate kisses you?”
The woman walked over, smiling.
“This must be Anna. I’m Serena. Soren and I are strictly business partners—don’t read too much into it.”
“Anna really is a stunner. If you were mine, I’d want to lock you away too.” She caught my chin and leaned down as though to kiss me.
I frowned and pushed her away.
Serena laughed, covering her mouth.
“Anna, you’re just so beautiful—I couldn’t help myself.”
“I like women. I have no interest in your husband, so put your mind at ease.”
As she spoke, she pulled up photos of her girlfriend. Half-believing, half-doubting, I looked at Soren.
“Is what she said true?”
Soren smiled and pulled me into his arms.
“Of course it’s true. I’ve known her for years. If anything had happened, do you think I’d still be with you?”
“What you saw just now was just an accident. Don’t read too much into it.”
I looked between them, and I chose to believe.
After that, every time I saw her, she was leaning on Soren—as intimate as lovers.
Serena wouldn’t even bother tying her silk robe properly in front of him.
I couldn’t help frowning, reminding him about it. But he didn’t seem to care at all.
“She’s just a friend. There’s no need to be so prudish. Just think of her as one of the boys.”
“Besides, even her girlfriend isn’t making a fuss. What are you angry about?”
Seeing how unbothered he was, I started to wonder if I was overthinking things.
Serena often gave me little gifts, calling me “Anna” with sugary warmth.
I convinced myself not to be so petty, so suspicious.
I began to think of Serena as a friend.
I set an extra place for her at dinner; when I went shopping, I thought of her too.
On her birthday, I even baked her a whole tiramisu by hand.
Until the anniversary—the two-year anniversary of being with Soren.
He’d been busy with border shipments lately.
I bought the black slip dress he loved, prepared a gift for him.
I found his personal bodyguard, my eyes shining with anticipation. I wanted to surprise him.
But when I looked up, the bodyguard was stammering, avoiding my gaze.
“Donna Anna… maybe… maybe you shouldn’t go.”