𝔄𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔩𝔞 𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔞 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔢

Chapter 73~The Plan

This chapter is very short. (Btw)

Donatella POV:

I didn’t sleep.

Not really.

My eyes were closed, but my mind never shut off—not for a second.

Amir’s heartbeat thrummed gently beneath my cheek, warm and steady, a quiet reminder that he was still here. Still alive.

For now.

But how long would that last?

How long until Leonardo came back?

How long until one of the others decided to “handle” the problem the way they always do—quietly, violently, permanently?

I couldn’t take that chance.

I wouldn’t.

Not with him.

Not with the only person in this entire fucked up castle who looked at me like I was something worth saving.

Not after everything.

I stared at the shadows on the ceiling and counted the lines in the tile, memorizing every inch of this goddamn hospital room while my brain spiraled.

This wasn’t going to stop. Not here. Not now. Not with a single hospital visit and a weak apology and a slap on the wrist for my brothers.

No.

They had tasted blood.

And they’d want more.

I knew Leonardo—cold, calculated bastard that he was. He didn’t lose. He didn’t forgive. And Amir? Amir had touched something he wasn’t supposed to. Spoke out of turn. Fought back. He dared to challenge the power structure Leonardo ruled like a fucking god.

So he got punished for it.

Almost to death.

And next time, there might not be a hospital bed or a second chance.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I wouldn’t.

He stirred beside me, just a little, his breathing heavier now. Still asleep. Good. I needed him asleep. I needed time to think. Time to plan.

I was good at planning.

Too good, maybe.

Because the plan forming in my head now—this one?

It was the worst thing I’d ever thought of.

But it would work.

God help me, it would work.

I would be the monster if I had to. I would be the villain, the traitor, the manipulator, the bitch who crossed the line and never looked back. If that’s what it took to keep him alive—really alive, not just breathing but safe and free and far away from this rotting house of lies—I’d do it. I’d burn every bridge I’d ever built and salt the earth behind me.

Even if it meant losing him in the process.

Even if he looked at me with hate in his eyes for the rest of his life.

Even if he never touched me again.

Even if he told the world I was a heartless, cold-blooded bitch who destroyed the only good thing in her life.

Because if he’s alive to say those things?

Then I’ve done my job.

And that’s what matters.

I don’t get the luxury of being loved. Not really. Not for long. Not in a world like this. Not with a family like mine. Not with a last name that drips in blood and legacy and expectation.

But I can protect.

I can protect the one thing that still matters.

The only person who makes me want to be good even when I’m too far gone to try.

So yeah.

The plan is awful.

The kind of awful that makes your stomach twist just thinking about it. The kind of awful that could break us both. The kind of awful that would keep me awake for the rest of my life wondering if I made the right choice.

But it’ll work.

It’ll fucking work.

I need to get him out.

For good.

And then?

Disappear.

Cut the wire. Sever the ties. Block every route that could lead him back to me. Let him think I betrayed him. Let him hate me. Let him forget me.

Because if he forgets me?

He’ll stay gone.

He’ll stay safe.

He’ll live.

And that’s the only thing I care about now.

I turned my face into his chest, breathing in the soft, clean scent of the hospital sheets and whatever was left of him that wasn’t blood or bruises or pain.

I wish I could freeze this moment.

I wish I could live in it.

But I can’t.

Because this moment isn’t real.

It’s temporary.

He’ll wake up soon. He’ll look at me with that same calm devotion and ask if I’m okay, like he’s the one who needs to check on me.

And I’ll lie.

I’ll kiss him. I’ll tell him I’m fine.

And then… I’ll start to destroy us.

Carefully.

Strategically.

For his own good.

Tonight.

Because love like this? It doesn’t survive people like me.

But maybe it can survive if I step out of the picture entirely.

Maybe he can survive.

And that’s enough.

It has to be.