The Don Thought I'd Stay

Chapter 2

Three days later, it was the seventy‑fifth birthday of the old godfather, Vittorio.

I had just finished an emergency surgery and arrived forty minutes late. Damian was waiting for me at the entrance of the banquet hall. He draped his jacket over my shoulders first, then handed me a glass of warm sugar water. "Drink this first. You look pale."

For a moment, I almost convinced myself I had been overthinking.

Then I walked into the main dining room.

Sofia was seated to Damian's right. In the godmother's seat.

She stood up immediately. "Elena, I'm so sorry, I didn't know—"

"Sit down," Damian said first. Then he lowered his voice to explain to me. "She was followed this afternoon. This seat is closest to the side door and to my security. It's just for one meal."

The butler had already moved my place setting to the opposite side of the table.

Everyone at the long table was watching me.

I didn't want Vittorio's birthday dinner to become a spectacle. So I sat down. "Of course. Safety comes first."

Damian's shoulders relaxed noticeably. A few minutes later, he pushed a hazelnut‑free risotto toward me. Under the table, he gave my fingers a gentle squeeze, as if to say he was sorry without words.

I felt a sudden, deep exhaustion.

He did care about me. He was just so certain that I would be reasonable that whenever someone needed to step back, I was always the first person he thought of.

Dessert arrived, and fireworks began over the estate grounds.

At the first loud c***k, Sofia's wine glass slipped and shattered. Her face went white. Her breathing turned shallow and fast.

Damian was at her side in an instant, gripping her wrist. "Look at me. Breathe. Five, four, three..."

Sofia clutched his sleeve, crying. "I know it's just fireworks. But I can't stop it."

"I know."

He led her out of the dining room.

When the second round of fireworks burst overhead, my hand trembled too.

Years ago, a mortar shell landed less than fifty meters from our medical station. The power went out that night. I spent two hours stitching up a child's abdomen, torn open by shrapnel, by flashlight. Since then, I've never been able to tell the difference between celebration fireworks and the dull thud of incoming shells.

But Damian never knew.

Near the end of the banquet, I went upstairs to fetch medication for Vittorio. Passing the study, I overheard laughter and a voice. "Private safe house, black onyx amulet, even giving up his wife's seat tonight. Is that really just duty?"

Damian's reply was flat. "Sofia is a responsibility, not a woman."

"Then why do you go running the moment she cries?"

A pause. Then he said, "Because she understands. She's been where I've been. She knows what it's like to come back from a war zone."

Someone else asked, "And what about Elena?"

"Elena is different. She's had everything since she was a child. I don't want her touching that kind of darkness. She wouldn't understand it anyway."

I stood outside the door, looking down at my own hands.

These hands had held down a soldier's severed leg without anesthesia. They had stitched abdominal cavities torn open by shrapnel in the dark.

The bullet in Damian's chest, the one that almost killed him, was taken out by these hands.

But three years of marriage, and he had never once asked me why I didn't watch fireworks.

That night, I drew the line again. "Sofia can't come to our private residence anymore. And she can't keep pulling you out of our marriage with 'only you can calm me down.'"

Damian frowned. "She has trauma."

"You have doctors. Bodyguards. Therapists. You have the entire Moretti family to protect her."

"She doesn't trust anyone else."

I was quiet for a moment. "And what about me? Do I always have to be the one who understands, just because I look strong enough?"

Damian's expression shifted. He stepped closer. "Elena, I never meant to hurt you."

"But every time, you make me pay the price of protecting her."

He was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, his voice low, "The seating was a mistake. I promise you, she won't come to the estate again. When the threat is over, I'll take back the amulet."

Then he kissed my forehead. "I'll pick you up from the hospital tomorrow night. We'll have dinner. Just the two of us."

I nodded.

I am cautious about marriage. So even though I was already disappointed, I was still willing to believe one more time.