Chapter 87: The Gathering StormAurora’s POVThe sky over San Andreas churned in muted shades of gray, as if it, too, sensed what was coming. A strange hush settled over the city, the kind that made your chest tighten, like the whole world was holding its breath.But my mind wasn’t on the weather.“It was Tiffany’s father.”Dominique’s words still rang in my head, echoing like a bell I couldn’t unring. I didn’t understand, what did Tiffany’s father have to do with this mess? Why hadn’t I heard his name before? Why was he surfacing now, when everything was already falling apart?I needed answers. And as much as I hated to admit it, there was only one person who might give them to me.My father.I stood by the window in my hotel suite, arms crossed tightly against my chest. The skyline outside was a jagged silhouette, softened only by a thin drizzle clinging to the glass. My heart pounded with a chaotic rhythm, one beat fear, the other stubborn resolve.I wasn’t running anymore. Not fr
Chapter 86 The ReckoningAurora’s POVThe night air burned in my lungs as I stepped through the gates of San Giovanni. The old city looked different now, colder, sharper like it had been waiting for me to return. Cobblestone streets gleamed beneath streetlights, shadows spilling from alleyways like secrets whispered by ghosts. Every step I took echoed with purpose. This wasn’t a homecoming. It was a declaration.I wasn’t here to ask for peace.I was here to end a war.My boots clicked as I strode past the sleeping city, the weight of my gun heavy beneath my coat. I’d made calls. I’d reconnected with old allies, those who had stayed hidden in the years since my mother’s death. Some thought I was insane. Some warned me to forget it. But they didn’t know what it meant to have your soul carved out by grief, to walk every day with the phantom scent of your mother’s perfume trailing your steps like a ghost.I could still remember the way Don Vito had smirked when I was dragged from her
Chapter 85Fractured PiecesAurora’s POVPain.That was all I felt.It was not the kind of pain that came from a wound or a bruise, someone can haveNo,not this timeThis pain was very much different, it was very deeper, heavier, a weight that pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe. It filled every inch of my being, seeping into my bones like poison.I had spent years avoiding this moment. Years trying to bury the memories, convincing myself that the past didn’t define me. But now, everything had resurfaced.My mother’s blood. The coldness of her body. The way Don Vito had looked at me, completely unfazed by the horror he had created.I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms.A part of me wanted to scream, to destroy everything in my path, to make Don Vito suffer the way he had made my family suffer. But another part of me, one I hated felt vulnerable, weak. Like the fourteen-year-old girl who had fallen to her knees, shaking her mother, pleading for her
Chapter 84A Deal with the DevilMy father’s voice was quieter now, as if he were speaking to himself rather than to me. His gaze had lost focus, trapped somewhere in the past, lost in memories that still held him hostage.“We spent days together, hiding in the city. She told me everything, how Don Vito had controlled her entire life, how she had been raised to believe she was his property." He swallowed hard. "She would rather die than belong to him.”A lump formed in my throat.“We made plans to leave, to disappear somewhere no one would find us.” His fingers tightened around the glass. “I thought we had a chance.”He looked at me then, his eyes filled with a sorrow so deep I felt it like a physical wound.“I was wrong.”---*****Flashback: The Night of the Storm*****The rain pounded against the windows, drowning out the sounds of the city. I had just finished packing when the front door exploded open.Men poured in like shadows, their guns glinting under the dim light.Stella scre
Chapter 83 Stranger in the CaféThe library air hung heavy, thick with the scent of old paper and forgotten stories. Shadows, long and distorted, danced across the walls, cast by the single, flickering bulb struggling to pierce the gloom.My father sat opposite me, his silhouette a study in weariness. His face, etched with the lines of time and regret, was a landscape of buried memories He held a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling within like trapped secrets.He took a deep breath, the sound rasping in the stillness. His fingers tightened around the glass, the knuckles white. His eyes, clouded with a pain I'd never seen before, finally met mine. For the first time, I saw not just my father, but a man haunted by his past."It all started twenty-five years ago," he began, his voice rough, as if the words themselves were difficult to dislodge. "A lifetime ago, it seems now."The present dissolved. The library, the dim light, even my own anxiety, faded into nothingness. I w
Chapter 82Unveiling the PastThe cab ride home was a blur. My mind raced with thoughts, too many to count, too many to bear. With each passing moment, my tears flowed freely, leaving a trail of despair in their wake.I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t understand how everything had unraveled so quickly. My heart felt heavy, weighted by the revelations from Don Vito. My past, my family, everything felt like a labyrinth with no clear exit.As the cab screeched to a halt in front of the house, a sense of familiarity washed over me. The green door stood before me like a silent sentinel. I knew, deep down, that walking through that door meant confronting the truth I had been avoiding for so long.Knock…knock…I waited, each second stretching out like an eternity, before hearing Vanessa's voice echo from inside."Coming."I groaned in frustration. Vanessa. The one person who could always manage to get under my skin, no matter the circumstances.The door creaked open, and there she stood,