My Don’s Secretary Killed the Wrong Mother

I was on vacation with my mother at our country vineyard when a message arrived from Ava, my husband's personal secretary. He was the new Don of the Falcone family.

The photo showed a woman, bruised and naked, curled up on the floor of a cold cellar.

It was followed by a voice message, her tone arrogant:

"Helen, is this what you peasants do? Claw your way out of the mud just to leech off the Don?"

"Don Lorenzo just acquired this estate, and you have the nerve to let your blind, ill-mannered mother wander in here to freeload? As the Don's personal secretary, it's my job to uphold the Falcone family's dignity."

"This is the price for trespassing on the Don's estate!"

I froze, my eyes lifting to the other side of the long table where my mother was sipping her red wine, perfectly safe.

I zoomed in on the photo. The moment I saw the details, my heart seized.

On a pale hand was a familiar ring. It was the heirloom the Falcone Madre never took off.

I immediately dialed Ava's number. "Ava, are you insane? That's Lorenzo's mother!"

A careless, almost flirtatious laugh came from the other end of the line.

"The Don may consider you his property, but he never agreed to take in your dirt-poor family."

Ava, my husband's secretary, sent me a photo of a woman, beaten and naked.

The caption read: "Don Lorenzo just acquired this estate, and you have the nerve to let your blind, ill-mannered old mother come crawling here to freeload? As the Don's personal secretary, it's my job to uphold the Falcone family's dignity."

"This is the price for daring to trespass in the Don's home!"

I stared, stunned for a long moment. I looked at my mother drinking red wine across from me, then looked again at the photo, at the ancestral ring on the woman's hand that my mother-in-law never removed. I immediately called Ava.

"Ava, are you insane? That's Lorenzo's mother!"

The woman on the other end chuckled. "Oh, Donna, don't be dramatic. The Don was clear. Your mother is your problem, his mother is his. Don't get the two confused."

With another flippant laugh, Ava hung up.

I didn't dare waste a second. I ordered the housekeeper to have the private jet readied for New York and dialed Lorenzo's number.

"Lorenzo, something's happened! Mom was attacked by Ava at your new estate. You need to go right away..."

"Enough. I know what you're going to say."

Lorenzo cut me off coldly. "I think Ava did the right thing."

"She was upholding the family's rules."

My mind went blank. "Do you have any idea what you're saying?"

I could hear the rustle of his suit as he adjusted it. He sighed, his voice edged with impatience.

"Helen, you're my wife. I'd give you all the wealth and luxury in the world, but your mother needs to learn the rules. She can't just act like she owns the place because you're the Donna."

My eyes reddened with urgency. "You don't get it at all. The woman is your—"

"Enough!" Lorenzo's voice rose, but he quickly reined in his anger, as if soothing a disobedient pet.

"So what if she's my mother-in-law? I won't have you dragged down by your greedy, low-class family."

"Today she dares to sneak into my estate to freeload, tomorrow she'll be demanding protection money from my underground casinos."

"Ava made an example of her. She taught your mother a lesson, and now no one will dare to gossip about the Don's wife."

My knuckles turned white as I clutched the phone, his coldness extinguishing my frantic urgency.

My mother, Sofia, may have come from the country, but she was a woman of integrity, humble and resilient.

She never asked for a single cent of the family's money. For Lorenzo, she gave everything and never asked for anything in return.

Back when Lorenzo was just a low-level punk with nothing to his name, my mother sold her ancestral land and the last of her jewelry overnight without a second thought, just to help him raise the capital he needed.

When she heard he'd taken a bad hit in a shootout, she brewed traditional remedies and crossed into rival territory just to deliver them.

But this woman, who treated him like her own son, was now just a "country bumpkin" to the new Don Lorenzo, someone who "tainted his bloodline" and "deserved to be taught a lesson."

A chill settled deep in my heart, and my voice became distant.

"Lorenzo, the person in that photo is badly hurt. I suggest you send the family doctor to save her immediately. After all, she worked so hard to raise you."

Lorenzo's temper flared.

"Helen, what is wrong with you? When did your mother ever raise me?"

"No wonder Ava couldn't hold back. You've been brainwashed by your mother!"

"Don't fight with me over an outsider. You stay put in the countryside. After my mother's welcome celebration, I'll come get you myself."

Then, he hung up.

As the plane taxied down the runway, I saw Lorenzo had posted an update on his social media.

It was just one sentence, with a photo: Welcome home, my Madre. I will lay the highest honor and power of the entire family at your feet.

My fingertips twitched. Expressionless, I gave his post a "like."

A dark curiosity stirred in me. When he discovered the Madre he revered as a goddess had been tortured to death by his favorite secretary, I couldn't wait to see the look on the face of this legendary "devoted son."