Thirty-five:

Thirty-five:

“Emmilia,” a voice spoke to me, “Emmilia, wake up.”

I’d been knocked out again. I struggled to get up and I took in my surroundings. Donatello stood over me and glared.

“You weren’t answering my calls,” he told me.

I glared at him. “I know who you are, Donatello. I know that you lied about being my father. I know that you’re obsessed with my mother and I know that you thought you could use me to control her. And my father is alive. If he thinks there is something wrong, he’ll come for me. So will Cesare.”

Donatello shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here with me. Your mother is going to come out of hiding and I am going to make her mine.”

“You’re going to make her yours?” I said. “You’re married.

He smiled. “Not any longer.”

My stomach churned. “Not any longer? What does that mean?”

“That means that I’ve taken care of my wife,” Donatello said, “you don’t need to worry about that. All I need is for you to be a good girl and then I can have the family that I always