The Don’s Substitute Bride

4. Taken

The Romano estate smelled like smoke and blood long after the last siren faded into the distance.

Marina sat on the edge of the couch in Dominic’s private office, her hands wrapped tightly around a cup of tea she hadn’t touched. The porcelain rattled faintly with the tremor she couldn’t stop. Outside the tall windows, dawn crept in slowly, staining the sky a dull gray, as if even the morning wasn't sure it should arrive.

Dominic stood near the desk, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, blood spattered across his white shirt, not his own. A thin cut ran along his temple, dark and angry. He hadn’t acknowledged it. He hadn’t acknowledged much of anything since the attack ended.

The house was quiet now, but not peaceful.

Quiet like a battlefield after the bodies were cleared.

“They weren’t amateurs,” Dominic said finally, his voice rough. “It was just too clean and too coordinated.”

Marina lifted her head. “Your parents?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

That was the answer.

“They wouldn’t risk open war,” she said softly. “Not in your own house.”

“They didn’t,” Dominic replied. “They outsourced it.”

Marina’s stomach twisted. “Because of me.”

Dominic turned sharply. “No.”

“Because I exist,” she insisted. “Because I’m inconvenient. Replaceable.”

“You are not replaceable,” Dominic snapped.

The force behind the words startled both of them.

Marina rose slowly, stepping closer. “Then tell me the truth.”

His jaw tightened, eyes darkening. “My parents don’t lose control gracefully. They believe power is inherited, not defended. They see you as a crack in the foundation.”

“And cracks can be sealed,” Marina said.

“Or broken wider,” Dominic replied.

She studied him, the man who ruled with violence and precision, who terrified entire cities with his name alone. And yet beneath that armor, she saw it: the strain, the fracture lines running through him.

“They’ll keep coming,” Marina said.

“Yes,” Dominic agreed. “Which is why you’re leaving.”

Her breath caught. “What?”

“I’ll send you somewhere safe,” he continued. “Out of the city. Guards. New identity if necessary.”

Marina shook her head. “You think I’ll run?”

“I think I won’t bury you,” Dominic said coldly.

“That’s not protection,” she said. “That’s exile.”

“It’s survival.”

Marina stepped closer until they were inches apart. “I didn’t survive this long to disappear when things got ugly.”

Dominic looked at her like he was seeing her clearly for the first time—and hating that he was.

“You don’t understand,” he said. “This world doesn’t just punish weakness. It destroys defiance.”

“Then stop treating me like a weakness,” Marina replied. “I didn’t choose this life—but I’m standing in it.”

Before he could answer, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

Dominic turned, instantly alert. “Enter.”

One of his men stepped inside, pale and tense. “Boss. We found something.”

They found the tracker sewn into the lining of Marina’s coat.

It was small. Precise. Impossible to notice unless you knew exactly where to look.

Marina stared at it lying on the desk, her blood running cold. “That wasn’t there before.”

Dominic’s expression darkened to something lethal. “They were closer than we thought.”

“Your mother hugged me,” Marina whispered.

Dominic’s hands curled into fists. “Isabella.”

“She knew,” Marina said. “She planned this.”

Dominic slammed his palm into the desk, wood cracking beneath the force. “Move her. Now.”

Guards rushed into action, voices sharp, footsteps pounding.

Marina barely had time to grab her shoes before Dominic was pulling her down a back corridor toward a secure exit. The estate was awake now, men moving, radios buzzing, weapons drawn.

A car screeched somewhere outside.

Then another burst of gunfire.

Dominic shoved Marina behind him, firing without hesitation.

“Get her out!” Dominic shouted.

Strong hands grabbed Marina from behind.

She screamed Dominic’s name as a cloth was pressed over her mouth.

Marina woke to pain.

Her wrists were bound above her head, rope cutting into her skin. Her head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing behind her eyes. The air was cold, damp, and thick with the smell of concrete and rust.

A basement.

She tried to move—her muscles screamed in protest.

“You’re awake.”

The voice was female.

Marina lifted her head slowly.

Isabella Romano stood a few feet away, dressed elegantly as ever, her posture perfect even in this grim place. Behind her, two armed men watched silently.

Marina’s throat burned. “You had me kidnapped.”

Isabella tilted her head. “I had you removed.”

“For what?” Marina demanded. “So you can kill me?”

Isabella smiled thinly. “If I wanted you dead, you’d already be buried.”

“Then why?” Marina asked.

“Because you’re a liability,” Isabella said calmly. “And liabilities are negotiated.”

Marina’s heart pounded. “Dominic will come.”

Isabella’s eyes flickered with something sharp. “He already is.”

Marina’s blood ran cold.

“You think this will end well for you?” Marina said. “He’ll burn everything.”

Isabella stepped closer. “He will kneel.”

Marina laughed hoarsely. “You don’t know your son at all.”

Isabella’s expression hardened. “I made him.”

“No,” Marina said. “You forged him. He became something else.”

Isabella slapped her again; this time harder.

Marina tasted blood.

“You will sign an annulment,” Isabella said coldly. “You will disappear. And Dominic will regain what he’s lost.”

“I won’t,” Marina whispered.

Isabella leaned in close. “Then you’ll beg.”

Dominic tore the city apart.

Warehouses burned. Informants screamed. Deals were broken in blood.

By nightfall, every faction knew one thing: Marina Ferraro had been taken.

And Dominic Romano was no longer negotiating.

“Find her,” he snarled, pacing the war room. “I don’t care who bleeds.”

A man hesitated. “Boss… your parents—”

Dominic’s gun was in his hand in a heartbeat.

“Say it again,” he said softly.

Silence.

“They crossed a line,” Dominic continued. “Blood answers blood.”

Coordinates flashed on the screen.

Dominic smiled.

*******************

Marina’s strength was already fading; her arms burned, and her vision blurred. But she clung to one thought: Dominic wouldn’t stop.

Footsteps thundered above; gunshots exploded; the basement was instantly open as chaos erupted.

Isabella screamed.

And then Dominic was there—bloodied, furious, eyes wild.

He shot the rope binding Marina without hesitation and caught her as she collapsed into his arms.

“I’m here,” he said hoarsely. “I’ve got you.”

Marina clutched his shirt, tears spilling freely now. “I knew you would.”

He held her like she might vanish if he let go.

Isabella stared at them in horror.

“You choose her,” she whispered.

Dominic looked up slowly.

“I choose my wife,” he said.

The gun fired.

By the time dawn came, the old order was dead.

Marina lay in Dominic’s arms, safe for the first time since the nightmare began. His grip never loosened.