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Chapter 129
publish date:
2026-04-02 12:27:54
JanedoewritingsTaking a break was necessary because, frankly, I’m exhausted. It’s been draining to see the "pre-emptive" hate for the Capones based on things they haven't actually done. Raphael hasn’t crossed those lines with Gianna, and it’s confusing to see such vitriol in a dark romance space for characters simply acting within their trope. If you want to dislike them for things they haven't done, I can’t stop you. I don’t have the energy to argue anymore, so feel free to feel how you feel. I'm just here to write. I’m also pretty over the idea that I only write "other woman" drama. If you’ve been here, you know the history: Evangeline and Scott, Delilah’s lover, Claire and Ethan, Vivianne, Madeleine... my FMCs have always had lives and histories. I’m sorry if I offended anyone but I'm tired.
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He looked toward the cemetery for a brief moment before looking back at me. "One day all of it was meant to become yours." I blinked. "You were raised to understand this life," he smiled faintly, "When Gio Junior was born. I listened to tradition. My advisers. The old men who think a son must alw
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Yet... Raphael had gone to them anyway. He watched me carefully, "There are conditions." I nodded almost immediately. "The meeting will take place in the Capone cemetery." I blinked, "The cemetery?" He nodded, "Your mother will be there. I wanted the first meeting to happen where Hazel rests.
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Claire watched us without speaking. Jules handed Aurelia half of her sandwich as if sharing it were the most important thing in the world. I opened my mouth but no words came out. Vincenzo didn't push. He simply nodded once, as though silence was an answer too. "We're here whenever you're ready."
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Why? Why was she being kind to me? I hadn't earned it. The thought settled into my chest so naturally that it didn't even feel like a thought anymore. It felt like a fact. Mom was gone. Mama D was gone. Brianna. Emma. Morgan. One after another. Everyone I loved either left or disappeared.
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Gianna ━⊰ ❦ ⊱━ Everyone had gone to bed hours ago. I stood alone in the kitchen, one hand resting against the cold marble countertop. The lights above the island were the only ones still on. I stared at the knife block. I didn't move. I just... stared. My fingers slowly curled against the edge
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The air in my lungs stopped. My eyes flew open, my vision swimming with dark spots as the pressure increased. He was holding me so tight I couldn't swallow, couldn't gasp, couldn't do anything but feel the terrifying power in his arm. My heart hammered against my ribs, and the panic rose up in my
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She let out a small, broken whimper and dove back down, her tongue frantic, her teeth grazing me as she tried to prove me wrong. She was gagging, her eyes watering as she fought her own anatomy to please mine. It was exactly what I needed. No complexity. No "stepsister" bullshit. I watch
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“Shit—!” I gasped. I grabbed a handful of tissues from his desk and leaned over him without thinking. I started dabbing at his lap, my hands moving fast and frantic. I was pressing the tissues against his thighs, trying to soak up the heat before it burned him, my mind screaming with panic. “I’m
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"You're even hotter than they said." "Please!" I sobbed, my face half-buried in the leaves, "Please, let me go! I didn't know... I didn't agree to this!" I tried to crawl forward, my fingers clawing at the mud, but he just laughed. It was a dark, mean sound. He grabbed the back of my black top and
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