เข้าสู่ระบบThree days before our wedding, my fiancé, Raphael Russo, was killed in a gang shootout. They didn't even find a body. As I was drowning in grief, comments suddenly flashed before my eyes: 【Wake up, girl! the coffin's empty! He faked his death! The scumbag ran off to be with that scheming bitch chloe, the one pretending to be sick!】 【While you're crying your eyes out at the funeral, Raphael is fucking Chloe’s brains out in a hotel bed.】 【When he comes back, he'll claim he has amnesia. You won't know a thing and you'll forgive him. You poor thing…】 A month later, news of my marriage to Mafia Don Marcello Falcone spread through New York. Raphael’s right-hand man cornered me, furious. “How could you betray the Boss?” I tightened my grip on Marcello’s arm and smiled. “A girl can’t mourn forever, can she? I’m sure Raphael, in spirit, would be happy for me.”
ดูเพิ่มเติมRaphael never got the chance to settle his score with Leo and Nico. Before he knew it, his world came crashing down.The "gift" I sent the Guzman family—all the proof that Raphael was skimming their cash—sent the Mexican cartel bosses over the edge. With an open contract on his head, Raphael was a hunted man.His old allies, feeling the heat from the Falcone family, all flipped on him. His right-hand man, Leo, got picked up by Guzman's crew. To save his own skin, he gave up all of Raphael's safe houses. As for his money, I used my Rossi family connections to freeze every last dime.From prison, Chloe had called Raphael, begging him to bail her out.But all that did was remind him: it was her lies that made him lose me for good.So Raphael used what little juice he had left to have someone on the inside "take care" of her.Her life in there became a living hell.One snowy night, with nowhere left to run, Raphael was cornered at the edge of the Brooklyn Bridge. Behind him, the sound of G
The smear campaign came and went in a flash.By the time our private jet touched down in New York, the Falcone family lawyers had already handled everything.As for Chloe, the one behind it all—she was already behind bars. Her motive was simple: jealousy. Raphael had dumped her.After the honeymoon, I dove back into my work.And standing at the entrance to my gallery was a familiar figure.Raphael. Unshaven, his eyes haunted. The moment he saw me, his face lit up like he’d seen salvation, and he stumbled towards me.“Cecilia…”My bodyguards moved to block him, but I held up a hand to stop them. I wanted to see what kind of performance this wannabe actor was going to put on now.Raphael stopped three steps away from me, his eyes red-rimmed, his voice trembling. “Don't you want to know what happened to me? The truth is…”【What a fake-ass performance.】【I have never seen someone so shameless!】【Thank god she sees him for who he really is now.】“You’re going to say you had amnesia, and you
I leaned back against the seat, a wave of satisfaction washing over me as I pictured Raphael screaming his head off while being dragged from the church.“What’s on your mind?”The man beside me spoke suddenly. He’d already undone the top button of his suit jacket, his tie pulled loose.“Nothing. Just felt like… I just watched a pretty good clown show.”Marcello’s long fingers caught my chin, his thumb brushing gently against my skin.“Cecilia. Stop watching the clown. Now, look at your husband.”I couldn’t help but meet his gaze.The desire in his eyes was rawer, hotter than I had ever seen it before.“As you wish, Padrino,” I chuckled, boldly leaning in to press a kiss to his Adam's apple.He let out a low groan, his large hand clamping onto the back of my head, deepening the kiss.That night, Marcello was an insatiable beast.His kisses were urgent, trailing from my forehead, to my lips, my collarbone, and then deeper.“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?”“From the m
On the day of the wedding, the sun was shining.I stood before the priest in a pure white gown. Beside me, Marcello was a towering figure in a black tuxedo.“God, you two look ridiculously good together,” Sofia whispered.But just as the priest asked the routine question, “Does anyone object?”, the heavy church doors were thrown open.“I object!”Raphael Russo stormed in. His clothes were rumpled, his hair a mess, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like a madman, all of his former swagger gone, replaced by desperation and insanity.“Cecilia!” He ran to the center of the aisle, his arms spread wide, a twisted smile on his face. “I knew you were waiting for me! See? I’m alive! I crawled back from hell for you!”He expected me to scream, to cry, to run into his arms.Instead, I just stood there and stared at him.Like he was a clown.Marcello shot Raphael a look one might give a dead man, then leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Looks like today’s entertainment has arrived early.”I
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