Chapter 138
KATYA POV
The place was empty. The table was bare. Even her bedside stand—where a flask always sat—was completely cleared.
"Where’s your water?" I asked again, voice tightening. "I am fine, Katya." She dabbed her lips with a handkerchief, forcing the cough to settle.
"Just a tickle in my throat."
"That wasn’t a tickle," I said, already moving toward the door. "I’ll get you so from the kitchen."
"No, no—cara, sit." She reached out a hand, trying to stop . Her breathing had already steadied. Her voice was calm again. "Really. There is no need."
But my heart was still thudding. I didn’t like how that cough sounded. I didn’t like how quickly it ca and how fast she tried to hide it.
"With respect, Nonna," I said gently but firmly, "just let bring so. In case it happens again."
She looked at —longer than before. Longer than comfortable. Like she was reading every thought running through my head, every fear, every worry.
Then she sighed softly, almost fondly.
"You fuss too much," she murmured. "Just like him."
I froze. Her words hit sothing deep and confusing inside and I sure hope the old lady didn’t just compare with her son.
"Go on then." Nonna gave a small smile. I nodded and slipped outside, my nerves buzzing, not just from the cough, not just from the car, but from the strange heaviness in my chest.
I stepped out of Nonna’s room, gently closing the door behind so the latch wouldn’t click too loudly.
The hallway outside was quiet, I shook the nerves off and headed toward the elevator. The polished marble floor reflected the overhead lights, and my shoes made soft taps with each step.
I pressed the call button and waited. The light above the elevator blinked. In use.
The numbers descended slowly—too slowly—soone was riding it down from the fifth floor.
I didn’t feel like waiting, not when my nerves were already stretched thin and my mind wouldn’t stop replaying that cough.
The stairs were right across from the elevator—polished, wide, spiraling down in a neat sweep toward the lower floors.
The kitchen was on the third floor, and I was on the second. It wasn’t far. A small walk. A small breath. A mont alone.
Good. I needed that.
I stepped towards the staircase, my hand sliding along the railing as I descended, each step asured.
The house was too big. Too full of people I didn’t know and loyalties I wasn’t part of, despite staying her for what? over five months?
The image of that white car flashed again in my mind—smooth, rich, unfamiliar. And the way Nonna said perhaps Roo has company...
Why did that bother ? Why did my stomach sink?
I reached the landing between floors, pausing for half a second as sounds drifted up from below—muffled footsteps, low voices, distant clatter from the kitchen staff preparing breakfast trays.
Normal sounds. But they didn’t settle .
I started down the next flight, brushing a hand against my chest, trying to calm the tightness there.
Nonna’s cough replayed in my head.
Her trying to hide it.No water in her room—sothing that had never happened.
Sothing was off. With her, with the house, with everything.
And I hated how helpless that made feel.
Like I was floating. Like I belonged nowhere.
Like at any mont, I could slip right through the cracks of this place and no one would notice.
Halfway down the second flight, I slowed.
Voices echoed from below—sharper now, coming from the main hallway that led to the front entrance. I couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was from girls.
The voices sharpened as I reached the last few steps. High-pitched. Feminine. Excited.
And then I saw them.
Five maids—arms full of luggage—hurrying up the stairs. Big designer bags, small boxes, a hat case, even a long garnt bag that looked expensive enough to have its own security detail.
Their shoes clacked loudly against the steps, echoing through the stairwell.
Gina was at the front. Her eyes flicked up, landing on instantly. The glare she shot was quick but sharp, like she was reminding I didn’t belong anywhere near her or her group.
I stepped aside to give them space.
They didn’t thank . They didn’t even pretend to lower their voices as they passed.
"Oh my God, did you see her?" one of the younger maids whispered loudly—loud enough that it wasn’t a whisper at all.
"I swear, I’ve never seen a girl that beautiful," another said, breathless.
"Beautiful?" Gina scoffed, shifting one of the luggage bags higher on her shoulder. "She looks like she owns the place already. The confidence is crazy."
"That’s what makes her look like a Donna," one maid chid in. "I feel it, you know? Like... like she’s going to be our Donna."
My foot froze on the step.
Donna?
Another voice cut in quickly, nervous. "Don’t say that! She looks an. Cold, even. Did you see her face? Like she was judging everything."
"Judging us," Gina muttered under her breath. The girls giggled as they moved past , still talking loudly, still wrapped in their own excitent.
I wasn’t trying to listen. They just weren’t trying not to be heard.
Their voices followed them up the stairs until they turned the corner at the second-floor landing, luggage thumping behind them.
My heart... dropped a little. Not because of their words.
Not because they ignored —I’m used to that.
But because of that one title.
Donna. I knew what it ant. Even if I didn’t always fully understand this world, I knew that title.
A Donna wasn’t just any woman.
She was soone important. Soone chosen. A Mafia’s wife.
My stomach tightened, a cold knot forming low and heavy.
Donna... who? This family doesn’t have a Donna, Only a Don ad that was Roo.
So.. Nothing adds up.
Did that white car...umm..Did the Donna co with that?The girl from the white car?
Roo’s... company?
His guest?
His what?
I swallowed, forcing air into my chest as I started walking again, one step at a ti.
This wasn’t my business. This wasn’t my place. I reminded myself of that over and over, but the words didn’t settle anything inside .
If Roo had company... If she was beautiful... If she seed confident enough to be called Donna...
Then what? What did that an? For Roo? For Nonna? For this house?
For ? Snap out of it. I tightened my grip on the railing, steadying myself as I reached the third floor.
Water.
I ca for water. Not answers. Not assumptions.
Not... whatever the heat in my chest was. Focus, Katya. Just get the water.
Just breathe.
Just... don’t think too much.
††
Well well well, who might this Donna be lol
Guess please
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