ログインMonths later.Midnight. A rapid knocking shattered the quiet of the apartment.Grayson and I bolted awake. The knocking was light but stubbornly persistent, tapping away like the final gasps of a dying man."It's him," I said flatly.Grayson threw the covers off, his hand instinctively reaching for the nightstand drawer where he kept his gun."Don't," I stopped him. "Let me handle this."I walked to the front door and peered through the peephole.A gaunt, hollowed-out man was on his knees in the hallway. He was skin and bones, his hair a greasy mess, his face covered in a ragged beard.His suit was caked in dirt. His eyes were so vacant it looked like his very soul had been scooped out.If it wasn't for those familiar eyes, I wouldn't have recognized the once-untouchable Rocco.He’d lost his Capo seat and was exiled from the family. Out here in Philly, he was just waiting for a hitman's bullet."Alessia," he rasped, his voice sounding like sandpaper. "Please. Open the door. I know you'
My phone buzzed aggressively on the desk. The notification chimes were going off like crazy.The screen was flooded with red dots.The entire city of Philly was talking about the livestream twist of the century.I sat in my newly renovated studio, watching the endless stream of couriers delivering apology flowers. The same influencers who had cursed my name were now crying crocodile tears in their own apology streams.@PhillyTruth posted three separate apology videos. She even slapped herself on camera, but her follower count still got sliced in half.@SweetAsHoney just quit the internet entirely, claiming she was too ashamed to face her fans.The comment sections had pulled a total 180. The people who used the sickest words to curse me out were now flooding my DMs, begging for forgiveness. Some even wired me hush money.But I didn't care about any of it. I didn't accept a single apology, and I didn't forgive anyone. I just curled up in Grayson's safe, warm apartment, waiting for the i
The FBI interrogation room had one blinding fluorescent light.Rocco was cuffed to the metal table. His custom suit was a wrinkled mess, his tie ripped off. The once-untouchable mafia Capo looked like a broken street thug.The heavy door opened. His lawyer rushed in, sweating bullets."Rocco!" the lawyer stammered. "It's bad. It's really fucking bad."He spread out a stack of files. His hands were shaking."Every legit front, every casino, every construction permit the Cianci family runs—seized by the Feds in the last hour," the lawyer said, wiping his brow. "The Commission is absolutely furious about this livestream scandal."Rocco snapped his head up. Raw fear flashed in his eyes."They're talking about taking your rank," the lawyer whispered. "You know what that means."In the mob, losing your rank meant losing your protection. It was open season on his head."How many people watched the stream?" Rocco asked, his voice like gravel."Three million," the lawyer swallowed hard. "And it
The smoke cleared. Grayson stepped into the glaring lights.The lead FBI agent gave him a sharp salute. "Sir, the scene is secured."Rocco was shoved hard against the peeling wall by two cold assault rifles. He stared with wide, bloodshot eyes."Who the fuck are you?" he rasped, unable to hide the tremble in his voice.He couldn't connect this stone-cold commander with the guy taking punches for me on the street.Grayson looked at him dead in the eye. "Grayson Vance, Assistant United States Attorney. Rocco, you’re under arrest for false imprisonment, aggravated assault, and RICO violations."I watched the shock and pure terror wash over Rocco’s face. A rush of pure satisfaction hit me.The real power game was just beginning.Grayson walked straight over to me. He pulled me into a gentle but tight embrace, completely ignoring the room full of mobsters and guns. He only had eyes for my bruises."I'm so sorry, Alessia," he whispered, smoothing my messy hair. "I should have moved faster. I
The black Mercedes screeched to a halt at a run-down industrial park outside Philly.This was Marco’s underground clinic. The place mobsters went to deal with messy wounds and messier problems.Thanks to the despair of my past life, I knew this place all too well.I pointed straight at the ordinary-looking red brick building. "Right there."Rocco glared at me, murderous intent practically spilling from his eyes. "You better not be lying."@PhillyTruth hopped out of another car, camera rolling. "Guys! We made it to the secret location! Two million viewers!"The chat was moving at lightspeed:@TruthHunter: Omg! This is better than a movie!@PhillyNightOwl: Go inside! I can't wait!@DramaPro: If he catches them red-handed, this is the drama of the year!Rocco kicked the front door in. The frame splintered violently.We marched straight to the VIP room at the end of the hall. Marco's private suite for made men.Rocco didn't knock. He kicked that door open too.The heavy door slammed agains
"Rocco? I'm still bleeding... It hurts..."Seraphina's weak sobs echoed down the street through the speakerphone.Murderous rage flared in Rocco’s eyes.His fingers trembled. His knuckles turned bone-white gripping the phone."I’m coming to get you, baby," his voice was a low, guttural growl straight from hell. "I swear to God, I’ll make that bitch pay."He hung up.Rocco turned slowly. His eyes were burning coals.He didn't hesitate. Not for a single second. He didn't check a single fact.He stalked toward me. Every step promised murder."No wonder you wouldn't tell me where she was. You fucking snake!" He roared, backhanding me so hard I nearly collapsed onto the shattered glass.Copper flooded my mouth instantly."You killed my kid!"I died like this in my past life. A victim of her lies. A victim of his blind rage.I had tried to explain. He never gave me the chance, just shoved me into the trunk of a car bound for Atlantic City.But this time was different. This time, I had hundre







