LOGIN
DEDICATION đș
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 They married her off. They actually married my daughter off. They forced her into a life she never chose, shoved her straight into the arms of a man who lives and breathes blood and sin, the Underboss of the Cosa Nostra. Scott Mancini. Even saying his name made something in me twist. After everything I survived, after everything that was taken from me, I swore my daughter would never live the life I did. I swore no man, no family, no boss, no oath would ever decide her future. I swore she would choose her own heart, her own path. But life has a sick way of spitting on promises. She didnât escape the chains, they just changed the hands holding them. She went from being forced into marriage with a fifty-year-old bastard... straight into the hands of the underboss of the Cosa Nostra. And the things Iâve heard from my boys. Stories of Mancini cracking skulls without blinking. Stories of him running the streets like theyâre his personal hunting ground. Stories of
Rino âđ€â Age 41 | Blackthorn Cold Storage Facility | Outskirts of Chicago. I sat at the metal table, sleeves rolled up, the overhead light buzzing like it was seconds from dying. Paperwork was spread out in front of me, ledgers, transfers, digital printouts. Five yearsâ worth of our numbers. Five years of something not fucking adding up. Fabio sat across from me, tapping his pen like a nervous tick he thought I didnât notice. My brother-in-law, my underboss⊠and Valeriaâs only sibling. A man Iâd taken under my wing even when I shouldâve fed him to wolves after he ruined our friendship. His breath formed a faint fog in the air. Mine didnât... rage has its own temperature. I dragged a thick finger down a column of numbers. âWalk me through this,â I said, and Fabio leaned in instinctively, like a dog conditioned by too many years under me. âYeah, yeah, of course,â he said quickly, âYouâre looking atâ uhâ the third quarter shipments, right? There were delays that year. A couple
Alessia â âââ â For a long moment I just stared at it, my fingers hovering, trembling. I finally slid a thumb under the flap. It opened with this soft, clean rip like heâd sealed it gently, like he didnât want to startle me. Inside was a folded paper. I pulled it out slowly, afraid it would crumble, or that I would. My hands shook uncontrollably as I unfolded it. I read the first line, and my vision blurred. My throat closed. I had to clamp a hand over my mouth because a sound clawed up from somewhere deep, somewhere broken. I blinked until the words steadied enough to read again. The ink felt alive, like I could hear his voice in every line. âAunt Alessia, I donât even know how to start this. Iâve been gone from home a year, but it feels like ten. And even when I wasnât near you, I still felt you because every day I spent with Allegra, I saw pieces of you in her. Your calm. Your softness. That strength you carry without even trying.â My chest clenched hard. I p
Alessia â âââ â Age 39 | Capone Estate | Chicago, Illinois. Saint Agathaâs always smelled the same, like melted wax and old stone, like incense soaked into wooden pews, like memory. My knees buckled before I even meant for them to. My hands were shaking so badly I had to grip the altar just to steady myself. âPleaseâŠâ I whispered, though my voice barely made a sound. âPlease keep him safe.â Silvioâs face wouldnât leave my mind, his laugh, his dimples. The ache in my chest twisted deeper. My fingers brushed over the cold metal lighter as I reached for it. One candle. Then another. Then another. One for my mother. One for my father. One for Allegra, my sweet little girl whose light had been taken from me too soon. And one for Silvio⊠my stubborn, bright, wounded boy. The tiny flames flickered like fragile breaths, each one a prayer I couldnât put into words without breaking. I knelt in front of them, the marble hard beneath me, but I barely felt it. Tears blurr
Silvio â±â¶â·â° Enrico had me pinned against the edge of Raphaelâs workstation before I even got the monitor fully booted up. His mouth crashed onto mine and I grabbed a handful of his shirt, dragging him closer until our bodies lined up perfectly. The glow from the monitors painted him in blue light, he bit my bottom lip, just enough to make me suck in a breath. âLock the damn door,â he murmured against my mouth. âNo one comes in here,â I whispered back, pulling him in for another kiss anyway. His hands slid under my shirt, fingers cold but touch blazing, and I groaned quietly. âYouâre supposed to be helping me mess with Raphaelâs computer,â I said, though I didnât sound very convincing with my lips brushing his. He let out a laugh against my neck, âI am helping. Iâm keeping you motivated.â I laughed into his mouth and kissed him again until I felt dizzy. It was stupid how good he was at this. How good we were at this. My fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make hi
Alessia â âââ â And someone was about to regret opening his mouth. âI promised you that Iâd cut out peopleâs tongues even if they breathed wrong near you, didnât I?â Adriano stated, with a smile on his face. I didn't answer. My tongue felt thick and useless, stuck to the roof of my mouth. Adriano tilted his head ever so slightly towards our guards and it was all the signal they needed. One second, the man was there, the next, he was wrenched off his feet and forced to his knees. The guards moved faster than I thought humanly possible. One grabbed him from behind, a hand clamped over his mouth. The other had him by the arm, twisting him so his back was arched. They dragged him away from the main crowd, just a few feet, but enough to create a small, horrifying circle of space. The music still played, people were still laughing. I could feel every single person in the vicinity turning, staring, not at me anymore, but at him. At Adriano. And at the man who was now struggl







