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The Lombardi Empire

Author: Janina peters
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-06-01 18:16:33

MIA

I wake up the next morning feeling much more refreshed. It’s really nice to have someone to talk to away from this life of chaos. I take a quick bath and dress for work. My stomach churns as I remember Mr Wilson’s task for me which was a direct contrast to what Aaron sent me there to do.

I head downstairs and see Stella already cleaning the kitchen counter with my breakfast neatly arranged on one end. She looks up at me and I can swear I saw a flicker of concern before she looks back at the counter she’s cleaning.

“I’m fine.” I say.

She gives me a blank look before resuming her cleaning. “I did not ask.” She simply replies. Her reply was meant to me stoic and cold but the extra eggs on my plate made me understand her method of showing concern.

I rush through breakfast and head to work. In the car, I see my daily order of coffee already bought and I look at Bobby through the rear view mirror. He just nods his head and drives off.

It takes me almost half an hour to finally settle
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  • THE HOSTAGE'S DILEMMA    His Name Was Enough

    NATALIEI check the address one more time and confirm that I’m at the right place. I step out of the taxi and pay.I camt help but admire the sleek, modern architecture that pierces the evening sky. Aaron Lombardi real alt knows how tot take care of his woman.I ride the elevator up, the short journey silent, the polished doors reflecting my slightly anxious smile. I smooth down my shirt, take a deep breath, and mentally plaster on the "I'm so incredibly happy for you!" expression I’ve been perfecting in the mirror all day. Reaching her door, I notice the subtle hum of the building's ventilation system, the distant murmur of city life. The door itself is a heavy, dark wood, embossed with a modern, minimalist number plate. It looks expensive, secure. I press the doorbell, a soft chime echoing within. I wait, anticipating the burst of energy, the wide, welcoming grin characteristic of Mia. A minute passes. Then two. My brow furrows slightly. That’s not like her.Just as I’m about to rin

  • THE HOSTAGE'S DILEMMA    Blood isn't Always Loyal

    MIAMy entire body remains frozen as I stare at the photograph in my hands. It’s uncanny. The eyes, the set of the jaw, the curve of the lips – it’s me. My breath catches in my throat. I’ve never seen this man before in my life, yet a primal recognition sparks deep within my bones. He looks like an older version of me.My fingers, strangely numb, move to the next picture in the plain brown envelope. This one sends a jolt through me, sharper, more painful. It’s my mother. But not the mother I know, not the woman always weighed down by an invisible burden, her smile often sad. In this photograph, she is practically glowing, her head thrown back, a laugh bubbling up from deep inside her. Her eyes sparkle with joy I’ve only ever glimpsed in the rarest, most unguarded moments. And beside her, arm casually draped around her shoulders, is the same man. His smile in this one is softer, directed solely at her.My throat tightens. I’ve known my mother for over twenty years, and I have never in

  • THE HOSTAGE'S DILEMMA    The Weight Of The Crown

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  • THE HOSTAGE'S DILEMMA    The Stranger Who Looks Like Me

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  • THE HOSTAGE'S DILEMMA    The Moment I Fell Apart

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