Dumped by the Don, Crowned by the Mob Chapter 05

Dumped by the Don, Crowned by the Mob Chapter 05

In Montrava, the grand ballroom of the Rossetti estate was ablaze with lights.

Northern elders had gathered in force to welcome my return.

“Gianna,” Father called out to me in a commanding voice as he first raised his glass. “Welcome home.”

I lifted my crystal glass and swept my gaze over the crowd. Some of them were Father’s loyalists, some new-blood upstarts, and others who once scoffed at me, the Rossetti Principessa who’d “betrayed” the

North and run off to the South.

As I smiled, my voice was calm and rang out clearly. “Thank you, everyone. I’ve learned a lot these years

in the South.”

“Oh, for instance?” Some leaned forward, amused.

I set my glass down and began to say, “For example, their port runs on bribes to marine customs officers,

and I have that list now.

“Their arm deals hinge on three key brokers, one of whom now works for me.

“Two-thirds of their casino cash flow was never declared. By tomorrow morning, the tax office will

deliver a friendly tax audit notice right to Holloway Estate.”

Silence fell over the room before a low ripple of impressed laughter and applause broke out.

“A true Rossetti! Looks like Don Holloway is going to choke on his wife’s kindness!” one of the men

barked with glee.

“Wife?” I arched a brow and coldly reminded him. “I never married him.

An elder in the corner narrowed his eyes and piped in. “What about the child? Is he the Rossetti heir, or

the Holloways’ unborn little Don?”

The room quieted down to a hush, realizing that the question was going to be their main fear.

My smile was sharp as I sweetly said, “Dominic, we can’t choose blood, but loyalty’s different. This child

will bear only one last name, Rossetti.”

In truth, I’d thought of getting rid of the baby that day. But the doctor told me that the baby was growing strong and healthy.

I’d stared at the tiny flicker on the ultrasound and realized that though Rafael might be his father, I was his mother. I would not sacrifice my baby for his stupidity.

So, I paid off a nurse and forged a report. I knew that my baby and I deserved a clean start far away from

all of this.

From that day on, I did everything I could to strike back without mercy. With everything I’d learned about

the South, I struck deep at their core businesses.

Rafael’s forces were dangerously affected, but he didn’t fight back in time because Natalia had her claws on him again.

In the Holloway estate in Neravalle, Rafael sat in his study with stacks of urgent reports littering his desk.

Matteo burst in through the door. “Don Holloway, the Northern mafias are at it again! They hit our casinos in Vespera with tax raids, and we’re bleeding money!”

“Where’s Natalia? I need her report now!” Rafael snapped as he frowned through the papers and slammed them down in irritation.

Matteo looked visibly troubled. “Ms. Sullivan… said she has a headache. The report’s not done yet.”

“Another headache again? She’s always having headaches, fevers, and bad moods! What else is she good for? When Gianna was around, this crap never touched my desk!” He slammed his fist on the desk.

As the words left his tongue, he froze.

Then, calming down, he rasped, “Tell her I want that report on my desk tonight.”

But when Natalia finally stood at his door, fearfully clutching the report to her chest, his anger miraculously collapsed at the sight of her pitiful act.

He sighed and exhaled sharply. In the end, he just couldn’t bring himself to be harsh to her.

“Forget it. Just leave it here and take some rest,” he said, waving her off and losing all the strength to look through the due report.

Natalia placed the papers down but didn’t leave. Instead, she slipped behind him and gently massaged his temples.

“Don’t wear yourself out, Rafael. It’s all Gianna’s fault that she’s cruel to you.”

Rafael shut his eyes and didn’t answer. That was the lie he needed to numb the pain of losing both me and our baby.

On Harvestide Eve, Natalia twirled before the mirror, dressed in a gown heavy with gold grain and glittering gems. Ever the pallor of her cheeks couldn’t dull the gleam and vanity in her eyes as she turned to Rafael expectantly.

“Do I look good?”

Rafael seemed carried away. In his mind, a reminder struck him that this gown should have been mine.

He could almost see me in it, how the gold would have glittered on the gown like the descent of a true goddess. It would be nothing like Natalia, who now looked like a child playing dress-up, her shoulders too slight to bear the weight of the crown.

He forced a nod and pushed down the annoyance in his chest. “Have you memorized the rites? The

offering sequence, the invocations and interactions with the elders…”

“Relax!” Natalia impatiently cut him off. “I’ve got it all in my brain now. It’s just a show, isn’t it?”

Rafael frowned. For the first time, a cold pickle of dread welled up in his chest.

The next day at Harvestide festive squares, Rafael led Natalia toward the altar through the sea of

onlookers.

For her first step, she tripped on her hem, and Rafael barely caught her in time.

A hushed, stifled laughter rippled through the crowd.

For her second step, the ceremonial wheat slipped from her trembling hands and spilled to the floor as

she raised the sheaf high.

For the third step and crux of the rite, the sacred olive oil had to be poured into the brazier, and the

invocation spoken flawlessly.

She lifted the heavy golden pitcher with violently shaking hands. Under thousands of pairs of eyes, her face was nervously pale like a sheet. Her lips fumbled through the sacred words in a squeaking voice like

a frightened mouse’s.

“Hurry up!” Rafael urgently hissed.

But her grip faltered, and the golden pitcher tilted a little too far before a flood of gold-flecked oil

cascaded into the brazier with a swoosh.

A pillar of fire erupted into the skies, and waves of scorching heat roared across the crowd.

Natalia shrieked, dropped the pitcher, and crouched down. She was violently shaking as she hugged her

head in fear.

The square fell deadly silent, except for the wild roar of flames in the brazier. The Holy Flames, meant to symbolize the family’s unbreakable prosperity, had become a grotesque spectacle.

The elders’ expressions darkened like storm clouds as guests exchanged glances with disdain and disbelief brimming in their eyes.

Rafael watched the disaster unfold as his expression darkened. In that moment, it struck him what he’d truly lost.

I would never have failed him on such a significant occasion or made him a fool. And now, I was gone.

Without a word, he turned and returned to the festive squares, ignoring Natalia’s desperate, panicked

cries behind him.

Heading straight for the cellars, he knew he had to drown himself in liquor to burn this night from his

memory.

At midnight, Natalia found him a drunken wreck among shattered bottles, muttering in pain. “Gianna…

My baby… My son…”