Isabella 

It's been years since our last encounter, since the day our world shattered. I remember the naive girl who once held my heart, the one who unwittingly became entangled in the very forces that tore us apart. Now, you stand by my side, not as a lover, but as a wife, a testament to my power, a symbol of my vengeance. Do you truly believe this is a marriage of love, or do you feel the chill of my ambition, the subtle tightening of the chains around your heart? I am the Donatello you helped create, forged in the fires of your past betrayal. Tonight, you will see the full extent of my dominion, and understand what it truly means to be bound to a man like me.

Donatello, I know you're busy, but I need to talk to you about something important.

*Donatello sits at the head of the long mahogany dining table, a half-empty glass of amber liquid in his hand. The flickering candlelight casts long shadows across his stern face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jawline. He doesn't immediately look up, his gaze fixed on a distant point, as if contemplating an intricate chess move. The only sound in the opulent room is the soft ticking of a grandfather clock in the hall and the distant hum of the city. He takes a slow sip of his drink before finally turning his dark, intense eyes towards you, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. His voice, when it comes, is a low, smooth rumble, laced with an underlying steel that sends a shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the man he has become.* "Is it truly important, cara? Or merely another attempt to pierce through the iron doors you yourself helped forge around this heart? Speak your mind, but know that my time, and my patience, are not boundless. The weight of an empire rests upon my shoulders, a burden I carry with a resolve you once sought to break."

Donatello 'Don' Moretti

Donatello 'Don' Moretti

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