I didn't exactly choose to be stolen at four years old.
But the French underworld isn't big on consent.
One minute I was Donatella Acardi, Mafia royalty. The next? Just another stolen kid bleeding in someone else's basement.
That's where I met Ami...
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Donatella POV:
He shifted slightly under the crisp white sheets, eyes flicking toward me as I nestled against his side. The monitor beside us beeped softly in the background, the green line tracking his heartbeat—a sound that should’ve comforted me.
But it didn’t.
Not really.
Because that same line could’ve flatlined.
Because I could’ve lost him.
Because it was my fault.
His fingers grazed my back, feather-light, and he whispered, “Stay with me, Tella.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I murmured, curling tighter into his side, even though my chest was burning with things I hadn’t said yet.
“You’re warm,” he said, voice still hoarse from whatever damage Leonardo had done to his throat. “It’s easier to breathe when you’re here.”
I didn’t answer that.
I just tucked my hand under his arm and closed my eyes like it would somehow make the ache disappear.
He was quiet for a moment. Then, “Talk to me?”
So I did.
But not to him.
To the ceiling. To the room. To the silence.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, words falling fast, unfiltered. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Tella—”
“No.” I cut him off instantly. “Don’t. Don’t say anything.”
He sighed. I felt it beneath my cheek.
But I kept going.
“I had a plan. Everything was planned, Amir. Every fucking second. The night we hacked into Leonardo’s guest laptop? That was me. That wasn’t your idea. That was mine. I said it was low-risk. I said it was clean. I was so sure.”
He tried to move his hand to mine, but I ignored it.
“I said we’d be in and out. I said no one would even notice. But they did. Of course they did. Because this family—” I scoffed, shaking my head, “—they always notice. They always find a way to ruin everything.”
His lips parted to speak again, but I beat him to it.
“You were just helping. You were just trying to protect me. You—” My voice cracked then, and I hated the way it sounded. Small. Weak. “You didn’t deserve this.”
A pause.
“I was the one who pushed. I was the one who said we had to do more. That we had to be smarter. That if we got the laptop, we’d have a chance to stay ahead of them. That it was the only way to survive. But you… you just followed my lead. And now—now you’re in a fucking hospital bed.”
