I Hid the Don’s Son for Three Years Chapter 03
They rushed in, frantically calling for a doctor. A crowd gathered around Luca, lifting him off the bed.
The doctor arrived quickly, examined him, then looked up with a smile.
“Good news. The blood clot in Don Luca’s brain is dissolving fast. His memory should return soon.”
The Donna managed a faint smile.
Old Don frowned and said nothing, sighing repeatedly. After a long moment, he waved his hand. “Take him to rest. Have the nurses keep an eye on him.”
Once Luca was helped out and the door closed, three pairs of eyes turned to me.
Old Don spoke, his voice tired. “Miss Gia, we never meant to hurt you. But now we have no choice. You just had to let him find you again.”
He made a phone call.
Less than twenty minutes later, footsteps sounded outside. The door opened, and two button men walked in. They grabbed my arms without a word.
I froze, looking at Old Don, shaking my head.
“No — I didn’t —”
The Donna stood aside, her voice ice. “Take her away. Make it clean.”
Rebecca stepped forward. She ran her hand across my face, a flash of jealousy in her eyes.
“Uncle and Aunt, wouldn’t it be better to do it properly?” She took out a small blade and tapped my cheek with the back of it. “Slash her face. Then sink her in the East River. Even if Luca remembers and finds her body, he’ll just feel sick looking at her.”
The Donna hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Rebecca really does think ahead.”
I was chained to the bed. Hands and feet bound. I couldn’t move.
“No, please —”
Rebecca came at me with the knife. “Don’t worry. I’ll make it quick. He’s refused to marry all these years. Once he gets his memory back and sees your ruined face, he’ll finally be able to move on.”
I closed my eyes in despair.
Just then, the door slammed open.
Johnny pushed through the adults, rushing in with all his tiny strength.
“Grandma, please let my mom go. Don’t hurt her!”
He ran straight into the Donna.
She stumbled and almost snapped, “Who let this brat—” Then she looked down and froze.
The face. The eyebrows. The nose. He looked exactly like her son Luca as a child.
Old Don stared too. He crouched down, lifted Johnny, his voice shaking.
“Little one, whose child are you?”
Johnny sobbed. “Grandpa, please don’t hurt my mom. I don’t have a dad. She’s worked so hard raising me alone. Don’t pick on her.”
