Fake Death, Real Exorcist, Don Never Forgot Chapter 01
Five years after I faked my death and escaped the Visconti family, I suddenly fell gravely ill.
No hospital could find the cause.
Then an exorcist came to me and said, “Someone is calling your soul back. Could it be your family?”
I shook my head. I’d just had a video call with my brother last week.
“Then is there anyone who might want revenge?”
I almost shook my head again.
Then I thought of the man who ruled New York’s underworld.
The mafia king himself.
If anyone in this life had reason to hate me, it was probably him.
But it had been five years since I ran from his side.
In those five years, he was probably living happily with the woman he truly loved. He had most likely forgotten what I even looked like. Why would he hire anyone to hunt down my soul?
The exorcist’s expression didn’t waver.
“No. I’m not wrong.
“Whoever is searching for your soul isn’t an ordinary person. Otherwise, they couldn’t have gathered that many masters. I can feel a very strong force behind this.”
I frowned and placed a thick stack of cash on the table.
“Is there a way to stop it?”
Vera didn’t reach for the money.
“It won’t be easy. The person calling your soul has spent a fortune and hired several people to do the work.”
“You’re still alive, but your soul is being summoned. That’s why your body is reacting like this.”
My frown deepened.
“So I’m just supposed to wait to die?”
Vera thought for a moment.
“If you know who it is, show up in front of them. Let them see you’re alive.”
I froze, then forced a smile.
“I understand. I’ll go back and think about who it could be.”
Even as I was leaving, I still couldn’t let it go.
“If you find another way to break it, come to me. Name your price.”
In this small town, I ran a coffee shop.
To my staff, I was just the boss. To my customers, I was Miss Miller.
For five years, no one knew I had once been the Donna of a New York mafia family.
I grew up in Boston, surrounded by Italian American businessmen. In my memory, the living room was always filled with terrifying arguments.
Later, my parents died in a shootout, and my brother, Renaldi Castiglione, brought me to New York.
He started at the very bottom as muscle for hire. Then he earned the Visconti family’s approval, took over a small territory, and became a capo.
Renaldi’s business grew bigger and bigger. More people came to him. Even the Voss family’s princess, Lysandra, fell in love with him.
They got married.
That same day, I met Donovano Visconti, the head of the Visconti family.
His eyes were deep, black, and bright as obsidian.
I was spellbound.
Then he walked up to me and asked me for the first dance of the evening.
Even after the party ended, everything still felt unreal.
After that, Donovano found reasons to see me a few more times. On one of those dates, he proposed.
It all happened too fast. I felt like I was walking through clouds, light and weightless.
Just like that, I became Donna.
People envied the Castiglione family’s luck. They said Renaldi Castiglione had earned the Don’s trust, and Serafina Castiglione had become Donna. From then on, Castiglione would be a name no one in New York’s underworld could ignore.
Donovano and I were married for three years.
We were deeply in love.
He was loyal, focused, and never once involved in any scandal.
Then I got pregnant.
When I told Donovano, he held me like I was something precious and promised he would spend the rest of his life making it up to me.
But not long after that, at a charity gala, Donovano saw Lysandra again.
Everyone there saw it clearly.
The moment Donovano looked at Lysandra, he nearly crushed the wineglass in his hand. For the first time, I saw something like resentment on his face.
Only then did I learn the truth.
Long before Donovano became Don, Lysandra had been his fiancée.
Back then, Donovano didn’t have enough power. No one believed he was worth betting on, so the engagement was forcibly called off.
To spite her family, Lysandra married an ordinary capo at the time.
And of course, that capo was my brother.
Donovano didn’t stop her from marrying Renaldi. Instead, he turned his eyes to me. Which meant Donovano had dated me in the beginning for one reason.
To make Lysandra jealous.
For three years, I was his wife, yet Lysandra’s name never once crossed his lips.
Maybe it was because she and my brother had both left New York to build their business overseas.
But longing was a dangerous thing.
The harder you tried to bury it, the more violently it rose when the right moment came.
Like the moment Donovano reunited with Lysandra at that charity gala.