The Don's Regret: Losing His Life Saver

For three years, I was the one scrubbing the scent of blood from his hands and holding him while he screamed in pain. I was the one who taught Coleton Barron how to walk again after the car bomb nearly took his legs.

But the moment he reclaimed his seat as Don, I became invisible.

At his recovery gala, he draped his arm around Charly—the woman who fled when he was crippled—and laughed as he told his inner circle I was "just the hired help."

It didn't stop at insults. When Charly faked a fall, he shoved me aside with enough force to crack my skull against the pool edge.

When a bomb went off in a gallery, he looked me in the eye, saw me trapped under debris, and turned his back to carry her to safety instead.

He even held a gun to my head because she lied about me poisoning his soup.

His mother threw a check at me, telling me that tools go back in the box when the job is done. They thought I would beg to stay. They thought I was weak.

I took the five million and vanished without a word.

Three years later, I returned to New York. Not as his nurse, but as the fiancée of the only man Coleton fears.

And when he saw the diamond on my finger, the King of New York finally realized he had thrown away his only lifeline.

Chapter 1

Arminda POV

Three years of silence. Three years of changing bandages, of scrubbing the metallic scent of blood from his hands, and of whispering prayers when the fever took him.

Yet, it took exactly three seconds for Coleton Barron to remind me that I was just the help.

I stood on the edge of the limestone patio, a plush white towel draped over my arm like a mark of servitude, watching the man I had put back together laugh with a woman who had never seen him bleed.

The music at the Barron estate was loud enough to vibrate in my chest, masking the sound of my own heart splintering.

This was the "Made Man" recovery gala, a celebration of Coleton officially taking the seat of Don after the car bomb that nearly took his legs.

I was the one who taught him how to walk again. I was the one who held the bucket while he retched from pain meds, his sweat soaking through my shirt.

But tonight, I was invisible.

Jaydan and Isaias, Coleton's top Capos, flanked me. They were lethal men in expensive suits, holding champagne flutes with hands that had ended lives.

"He looks good, Arminda," Jaydan said, his voice a low rumble. "You did a miracle on those legs. The family owes you."

Isaias nodded, swirling his drink with a thoughtful frown. "So, when is the Boss going to make it official? You’ve been living in the penthouse for three years. He doesn't let anyone else touch him."

I tightened