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This story is for the women whoâve been told their time has passed. The ones whoâve been told that love has an expiration date. That passion has a deadline. I wrote this for you because you still deserve the butterflies. The soft moments and the sinful ones. The second chances and the wild, all-consuming kind of love. Youâre not past your prime, you are the prime and anyone who canât see that? Theyâre not the main characters in this story. So grab your wine, take off your bra, and settle in. Weâre rewriting the damn narrative. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° DISCLAIMER This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and events are either the products of the authorâs imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental and unintentional. This book, including all its content, is protected by copyright laws. All rights are reserved by the author, and no part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or otherwise utilized in any form or by any meansâwhether electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwiseâwithout the express written permission of the copyright holder. Unauthorized use, reproduction, or distribution of this work is prohibited and may result in legal action. Copyright © 2025 by Jane Doe Writings. All rights reserved. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° TRIGGER WARNINGS! The following book contains imagery that some readers may find distressing. This book contains multiple explicit scenes that graphically simulate sexual assault, although every encounter is fully consensual. âąStrong Language âąGraphic Violence and Gore âąMurder/Assassination âąTorture âąGun Violence âąExplicit Sexual Scenes This is a dark romance, which means love is messy, pain is part of the journey, and healing comes at a cost. Please take care of yourself while reading, and know that itâs okay to step away if anything becomes too overwhelming. Your safety and comfort matter more than any chapter. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° POINT OF VIEWS - POVs. This book is written in dual point of view. That said, not every chapter will alternate perspectives. The POV shifts will happen organically, when it makes the most sense for the storyline. Sometimes youâll stay with one character for several chapters if thatâs where the emotional weight or action is strongest. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° UPDATES SCHEDULE I donât have a fixed update schedule for this book, youâll definitely be getting updates, just maybe not every single day. Sometimes I might miss a day or two, and sometimes youâll get two updates in a row. It all depends on my crazy schedule. Please know Iâm doing my absolute best to keep things consistent while juggling exams, hospital rotations, and everything in between. Your patience and support mean the world to me, every comment, like, and read keeps me going, even on the tough days. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° AUTHOR'S NOTE Thank you so much for choosing to read my story, truly, it means the world to me. There are so many incredible books out there, and the fact that you decided to spend time with mine is something I donât take for granted. If you enjoy the story, I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts. Your feedback not only helps me grow as a writer but also keeps me company during those long, solitary hours when itâs just me, my coffee, and my characters emotionally ruining each other. Thank you again for being here. I canât wait to share more of this journey with you. â±â¶â·â¶â·â° With all my love, Jane Doe Writings. X O X O đAlessia â âââ â The courthouse looked too ordinary for what we were about to do. My palms were damp, fingers twisting the strap of my small purse as Antonio guided me through the metal detector. His hand brushed the small of my back. Every time the glass doors opened behind us, I flinched, expecting to see Lombardi soldiers striding in, or worse, my fatherâs men, his face when he realized what I was doing. My heart wouldnât slow down. It hammered in my throat, in my ears, louder than the shuffle of papers and the soft voices of strangers waiting for traffic tickets and name changes. I shouldnât have been here. I should have been in class. Or in my room at the estate, painting, reading, pretending nothing ever happened. But then I looked at Antonio. He stood taller than anyone else in that room, his suit dark, his jaw locked, eyes scanning every corner like he was ready to kill anyone who so much as breathed wrong in my direction. He didnât look nervous. He looked lethal, dete
Antonio â¶â·â¶â·âWhat kind of sick motherfucker does that to an eighteen-year-old girl?!âMy voice ripped out of me, bouncing off the walls, too loud. I couldnât stop pacing, my boots pounding against the floor. Back and forth. Back and forth. Every time I tried to stand still, my body jolted like I was about to explode.âHe raped her?!â the words tasted like acid in my mouth. I spat them, choking on the fury boiling up my throat. âHe fucking raped her on the night she turned eighteen?âI dug both hands into my hair until my scalp burned, then tore them down my face like I could scrape the rage out of me. My chest heaved, breath coming hard and fast, like Iâd sprinted a mile.My fists clenched so tight my knuckles cracked. I slammed one against the wall, the sound rattling the frame. Plaster dust rained down but it wasnât enough, nothing was enough.âThat piece of shitââ my words broke off in a growl. I wanted blood. I wanted his throat under my hand, his eyes bulging, his screams fill
Alessia â âââ ââBoys,â Isabella said gently, her hand still pressed between my shoulder blades, âgo outside and play for a bit, huh? Zia needs to rest.ââNo,â Vincenzo said immediately, his little arms still locked around my neck, âSheâs crying. Iâm not leaving her.âAdrianoâs jaw jutted in stubborn mirror. âZiaâs sad. Iâm staying.âRaphael pressed a kiss to my knee and looked up at me with watery eyes. âDid someone hurt you, Zia? Iâll bite them.âI choked on a wet laugh through my tears.Dante, wobbling on his chubby toddler legs, came over with his stuffed tiger, pushed it into my lap with both hands, and said, âMine. Zia sad.âMy heart cracked open all over again.I wanted to stay there, buried in their little arms forever, protected and loved. Untouched by the world.But Isabellaâs voice shifted, âBoys. Now.âVincenzo spun toward her, bristling. âBut MammaâââI said now.âThat tone meant no arguments, not even from Vincenzo, who always tried to talk his way around her rules.He
Alessia â âââ â I could hear my heart beating in my ears, my breathing ragged and uneven, my skin still raw from his touch, from his words. I couldnât stay here a second longer, I needed to move, needed to do something before the panic swallowed me whole. I forced myself up on trembling legs, holding onto the edge of the coffee table for balance. My knees buckled once, twice, and I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood just to keep myself from crying again. I couldnât walk out like this, not barefoot. Not in this torn, dirty dress, not with every inch of me on display like proof of what heâd done. I stumbled toward his closet like I was walking through mud, my body aching, hips sore, thighs burning with the bruises of the night before. My fingers were clumsy as I opened the closet and stared into the rows of tailored suits, pressed shirts, and expensive jackets. Everything smelled like him. Cedarwood. It filled my nose, slid down my throat, clung to my skin
Alessia â âââ â âYou are a rapist.â He physically recoiled at the word. âYouâve always been one,â I spat, voice low, shaking, âFour years ago, you pinned me in place and forced your mouth on mine. You stole my first kiss. Then you bent me over a couch and told me you could take whatever you wanted.â I stared at him, chest heaving, hands balled into fists. âThat wasnât some empty threat, was it? That was a promise. And last night...â my throat caught, but I forced it out, â...you finally cashed in.â âStop it,â he snapped, face twisting like Iâd shoved a mirror in front of him. âWhy? Because you donât want to hear it?â I smiled viciously, âBecause you donât want to admit that this... what you did last night wasnât a one-time mistake. It was a pattern. It was always inside you. Youâve just been waiting for the day you could finally go through with it.â âShut the fuck up, Alessia!â he roared. I didnât stop. âYou did it. You finally made good on all your promises, didnât you?â m
Alessia â âââ â I woke up to the kind of silence that didnât feel right. My eyes fluttered open. Everything was blurry at first, golden sunlight bleeding through heavy curtains, the scent of cologne I didnât recognize sticking to the back of my throat. I blinked hard. My head pounded. My mouth was dry, tongue heavy like Iâd swallowed cotton. Where theâŠ? This wasnât my room. The sheets were soft, the headboard some massive carved thing that looked like it belonged in a castle, it wasn't mine, none of it was mine. And me, Jesus Christ, I was naked, completely bare. I never slept naked. Panic shot straight through me, my chest locked up. I dragged the blanket over me, clutching it to my skin like it could undo the fact that I was stripped down to nothing. I tried to sit up but froze. Pain ripped between my thighs, sharp and real, not just soreness. My body felt wrecked, hollowed out, trembling when I tried to squeeze my legs shut. My pink birthday dress was on the