•••[Excerpt]••• "Stop... Stop!" Rosana's voice quivered as tears of fright brimmed her vision. She had been crying for hours, but not because she was leaving the beautiful life she had planned with her fiance behind. She was crying because her newly wedded husband had tortured and murdered a man mercilessly on their wedding night. "Stop, please..." He ignored her. "No... Stop touching me. Take your bloody hands off me!" Indeed, his hands were covered with the blood of the man he had killed earlier. But he didn't care. "S... Stop touching me!" He grabbed her neck and she gasped, her eyes widening in shock. "You shouldn't make me do this on our wedding night, Bambolina. You are mine and I will take whatever I want, whenever I want, wherever I want, and however I want, till death do us part, Mi Amor" ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ Rosana Marcello was already living the life she had dreamt about. With her boyfriend-turned-fiance by her side, nothing could be more perfect. Some weeks before the wedding, she was called back home by her parents and welcomed with devastating news. She had been betrothed since when she was a little girl but never knew. Now, he has come to claim what is rightfully his. With or without her approval. He is deadly, He is evil, He is the ruthless Sergio De Niro, known by everyone. Rosana can't escape this. She can't run away from him because he will comb the world and kill everyone in it, just to find her. She is now his possession, his property. It's either she tames him and melts his cold heart or he breaks her into a thousand pieces. Will she succeed or get consumed by his burning hell?
View More"No, it isn't!" Lucretia gritted and darted towards the narrow gap between two dumpsters. Before she could make it through, she was grasped by the hair and tossed harshly to the ground."Always thinking you're fucking smart" Domingo laughed and walked over to where she was now struggling to raise herself from the ground. He crouched in front of her and grasped her hair, pulling her head backward so she was now looking into his face."But you're not!" He added and landed a hard slap on her face that sent her back to the ground."What the fuck do you want from me?!?""From you? Oh, everything!" He replied languidly and grasped hair one more time."Why? I did as you fucking asked!""That's what I thought. Until I found out the mission was unsuccessful, you fucking failed" He responded and smacked her on the cheek once more. "And he is alive!"Lucretia spat our blood as she struggled to get up from the ground. "He's fucking dead, I saw it, you saw it. Unless you were fucking blind"Domin
The leather strap cracked against Alberto's back, the sound echoing through the room. His cries were all that was heard, his pleas for mercy drowned out by the relentless cracking of the belt. "You should have taken the throne," Sergio repeated, each word punctuated by another strike. His expression remained impassive, his eyes glinting with cold intensity.In rapt silence, the men who had been ordered out of the meeting room and the soldiers watched, witnessing Alberto's public downfall. They all knew Sergio was merely toying with him. An actual fight would've ended in minutes, with Alberto broken and covered in bruises. But instead of using his fists, the Don had chosen to wield his belt as a tool of discipline.The measured strikes, the steady pace, and Sergio's unruffled demeanor served as a potent reminder of his unshakable power and authority. This wasn't about vengeance, neither was it a punishment. It was a deliberate showcase of his supremacy."Please... forgive me! I am you
•••TWO WEEKS LATER••• ☠️🏴☠️THE CAPITAL🏴☠️☠️The door to the meeting room swung open, and Sergio walked in, his presence grasping attention. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his shirt crisp and white, his tie knotted to perfection. But it wasn't his impeccable attire that drew the eye. It was the cold aura that swirled around him like a dark cloud.As he entered, the room seemed to grow colder, the air thickening with an almost discernable sense of fear. The mafia members, dressed in tailored suits, felt a shiver run down their spines as their hearts raced in unison.Hastily, they scrambled to their feet with their heads bowed in terror and their eyes fixed on the floor. Not a sound was made and not a muscle twitched, as they froze in place. Sergio's gaze swept the room, his eyes lingering on each member. His face remained calm, but his eyes burned with an icy intensity that seemed to pierce the very souls of those before him.With deliberate slowness, he made
"It's a miracle!" The Doctor exclaimed, snapping him out of his thoughts. "The Don is awake, and we owe it to these two little champions"A sudden shiver ran down his spine, as though a cold breeze had swept through the room. But it wasn't the temperature that caused the shiver—it was the unmistakable sensation of being watched.He could feel a pair of eyes digging into his back, boring into his skin. The sensation was familiar, yet it sent a trail of shivers down his spine. Without turning around, Sergio listened to the Doctor who continued talking. As Sergio finally turned to face the room, his breath hitched in his throat. His eyes locked onto Rosana's, and time seemed to stand still. She was standing just a few feet away, her teary blue eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made his heart skip a beat. The children were with her, but his gaze was drawn only to Rosana—his Bambolina.In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the questions, not the doubts, not the fears. All that
In the depths of Sergio's subconscious, he had heard a faint whisper that echoed through the darkness. It was a soft, insistent voice, a gentle tug on the seams of his mind."Papà!""Daddy, wake up!" "We want you to eat lunch with us!"The voice was like a ray of sunlight, piercing the fog that shrouded his awareness. His subconscious stirred, ever so slightly, as the twins' words resonated deep within him. The voice grew louder, urgent, and more like a chorus."Please, Daddy, wake up! We miss you! We miss sharing your favorite sandwich with you!"Sergio's subconscious began to stir, like a sleeping giant awakening from a deep slumber. Memories of laughter, sunny days, and family meals together began to surface, tantalizingly out of reach.The twins' voices grew more insistent, piercing the veil of his unconsciousness. "Daddy, we love you! Come back to us!"At that moment, something shifted deep within his mind. A spark of recognition. As he slowly emerged from the darkness, it felt
Carlotta wiped her tears, her expression filled with sadness. "She wanted nothing, but for you to be safe and protected. She was dying and knew she wouldn't be there to shield you from the world you were born into. She wanted you to live a peaceful life, free from the dangers and secrets that came with your family name.""But my father, the Mafia Lord..."She walked closer to him. "She didn't trust he would protect you enough""I'm his heir...""Your father already had a son with his Mistress and was grooming him to take over. Your mother feared the deadly power struggle that would ensue, and didn't want you to be dragged into it." Carlotta gripped his arm, her eyes pleading. "Do not engage with them, I beg of you. Do not let your mother's dying wish and all my efforts to protect you be for nothing. You've built a peaceful and successful life here, you do not need to go back there. Do not risk all you've worked so hard for, everything you've accomplished. Most of all, do not risk your
𝐴𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑙 6𝑡ℎ, 1982𝑇𝑜𝑑𝑎𝑦, 𝐴𝑙𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑠. 𝐼 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐 𝑐𝑎𝑟 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦. 𝐻𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑏𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒. 𝐼 𝑓𝑎𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑, 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑡𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑.𝑁𝑜𝑤, 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑏𝑦. 𝐻𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑡𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑚.𝑇ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑠ℎ 𝑡𝑟𝑢?
Alberto's grip on the locket tightened as he opened it, his heart racing with anticipation. But what he found inside shook him to his core. Instead of a single picture of the woman Carlotta claimed was his mother, there were two images. The woman's picture remained, but the second one... Alberto's blood drained from his face as he realized it was the same man from the newspapers—the Mafia Lord.Memories flashed back to when Carlotta first showed him the locket years ago. She had used her thumb to cover the second picture, concealing the truth. But why? Why did she lie to him? Why did she hide the Mafia Lord's picture? What connection did she have to him? Had Carlotta been truthful about the locket's origins? Was the woman in the picture really his mother? Still clutching the journal, Alberto immediately opened it to the page where the locket had fallen out. To his surprise, he found additional entries, but they were dated and written in Italian. Fortunately for him, Carlotta had enrol
YEARS AGO•••The sleek, unmistakable lines of a black McLaren, its tires purring with power pulled up in front of the grandest estate in the city. The house was owned by Carlotta, the midwife who had nurtured Alberto's early years. It was a symbol of gratitude, a gift from Alberto. Despite being surrounded by staff and security, Carlotta often complained about the emptiness in the house. Alberto had moved to his own house long ago, but visited regularly, ensuring her company four times in a month. This was one of such occasions.As the car came to a stop, Alberto emerged, his tall and imposing frame unfolding from the driver's seat. Inky dark hair. Piercing eyes. Strong jawline. A face so exquisitely chiseled, it only belonged to one person, Alberto.His muscles rippled beneath the fabric of his neatly tailored, charcoal-gray suit, accentuating his broad shoulders and chiseled physique. A crisp white shirt, adorned with a slim silver tie, added a touch of elegance. As he strode towa
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