Can I Read 'The Last Judgment: Michelangelo And The Death Of The Renaissance' Online For Free?

(18+ Explicit Content) Buy me.” My voice rings clear through the room. "Buy me and I will serve you until my purpose is through. Buy me and save me from death.” Dante merely laughs at me, "Why should I save you? I'm no hero, girl. You've stepped into a 's den and you're committing yourself to me.” I don't budge, fighting through the urge to cower before him. “I'll give you one chance to walk away, Atwood girl. If you don't, you will be mine and no one can save you from me.” But that’s exactly what I need. Not a hero, but a monster who could tear the world down and bring my sister back to me. I would sacrifice anything for her, including my freedom. Jean Atwood was at the top of the world. A perfect life for the perfect daughter of the esteemed and powerful Atwood family. But one mistake turned her life upside down and brought her family's name to the ground. Drowned in debt after her parents' deaths, Jean must find a way to free herself and her beloved younger sister from slavery.

On the day I was diagnosed with uremia, my husband asked me to donate a kidney to his one true love. I turned him down, claiming I wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t expect him, my own husband, who was a doctor, to drag me to trial. The charge? Ingratitude. If found guilty, I would be executed on the spot, my kidney forcibly harvested, my soul condemned for eternity. But if the charges were dismissed, my husband would face immediate execution. His love would fall into ruin, plagued by illness and poverty. Everyone pressured me to confess. After all, when I nearly died in a car crash years ago, it was her blood transfusion that had pulled me back from the brink of death. But what they didn’t know was… I had been reborn. In my past life, I died never knowing my husband and his lover had orchestrated the car crash that nearly killed me. Now that I had returned, I would tear off their masks and expose their malice for all to see.

My studio's website receives an appraisal order worth 450 thousand dollars all of a sudden. The original poster of the order claims that this is a pre-wedding gift her fiance has gotten her. The comment section goes wild instantly. "If the appraisal fee alone is already 450 thousand dollars, does this mean the painting is worth 100 million dollars? Your husband really is generous to you!" "I'm so envious of you! You really are lucky to be able to marry such a rich man!" The poster quickly replies, "Luck has nothing to do with this. I fought for this fate with everything I had. I'll be frank with you; back then, my fiance still had a girlfriend. But everything I want in life will eventually be mine. "So, I slandered his girlfriend and pretended to be aggrieved just so my fiance's heart would go out to me. As time went on, his love for his girlfriend faded away. "In the end, all I have to do is lift a finger, and the girlfriend got her limbs crushed. After that, she got discarded like garbage." The Internet users post their replies of disbelief. There's no way someone will hurt their ex-girlfriend to this degree, after all. They all think that the original poster is being excessively dramatic. Someone even berates her for throwing a wrench into a relationship. Not only does she not feel ashamed, but she also finds it an extremely proud thing to have done. Even my assistant, Chiara Belmonte, tells me that this client seems like a nutjob and suggests that I decline this order. I don't say anything. Instead, I just tap "confirm". After all, what the poster said is the truth. The ex-girlfriend that she has described in her post is me.

My marriage to Dante, the Moretti heir, was meant to be a union of power, an alliance of empires. But for me, it was also the real deal. Then his adopted sister, Clara, showed up at a party. She was wearing his custom leather jacket, straddling his prized Ducati, and she looked right at me with a smirk. "Dante says," she purred, "that I suit these precious things better than you do." My smile froze. Dante had her on a plane overseas so fast it was like she'd never existed. Five years later, the night before our wedding. I found him staring at the design for our wedding rings. He'd changed the engraving. The "Amor Aeternus"—Eternal Love—was gone. In its place: "Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa." My sin, my greatest sin. I took off my veil right then and there. "The wedding," I said, my voice like ice, "is off."

Imogen Darcy is living a forbidden fantasy, secretly in love with her charismatic professor, Dante Salvatore. For two years, their stolen moments between lecture halls are a bittersweet promise of a future without secrets. But the fairytale ends the morning she wakes up alone, clutching a single, devastating post-it note. Her world instantly collapses. The press, tipped off by Dante's powerful family, brands her a gold-digging mistress. She is publicly shamed, expelled from Oxford, and disowned by her family—left utterly penniless with one final, life-altering secret: she's pregnant. Two years later, Dante returns, a man consumed by a vengeful rage. He has just discovered the monstrous betrayal orchestrated by his own mafia dynasty, a betrayal that forced him to shatter the woman he loved. He is too late to find her, but he finds the daughter he never knew. His quest for revenge uncovers his family's darkest secret: a brutal child trafficking ring. But his investigation leads him to a shocking safehouse, where the final piece of the puzzle is the broker's niece—a hardened, resilient Imogen. Now, to protect the family he has just found, Dante must bring them into the heart of the enemy's territory: his own gilded estate in Italy. Forced into close quarters, they must navigate their painful history, a web of deadly enemies, and a passion that never truly died. As a final, bloody war for control erupts, they are forced to confront a dangerous question: Can a love that was first built on secrets and then shattered by betrayal, be rebuilt on a foundation of vengeance and blood?

Every Christmas Eve in Port Saint Giovanni, the Camerlano family hosts the Claiming Rite at Saint Giovanni Manor. Twelve girls stand in a line. Whoever receives the white-gold signet pin becomes the heir’s publicly acknowledged bride candidate. I am Grace Sorrento, the bastard daughter of the Sorrento family. If I do not receive that signet tonight, by sunrise I will be put on a plane to Chicago and married off to a Rizzo, a man rumored to have killed two former fiancées. Adrian Camerlano, the boy I grew up with, swore to me in blood three days ago that the signet would be mine. But when the moment came, his hand turned. With a smile, he pinned it on Lucia, the orphan his family had sponsored. Then he leaned close to my ear. "Let Lucia have her moment. No one has ever really looked at her before. Don’t worry. This is my estate. No one will dare arrange your marriage without my say." I grabbed his sleeve, but he removed my fingers one by one. "Lucia has no roots and no last name. Tonight is all she has. But you are a Sorrento. Even without the signet, no one will touch you." That phrase, no last name, drew every gaze in the ballroom toward me, full of pity and quiet mockery. The next morning, I boarded a flight to Chicago. When Adrian heard, he made one call to Port Saint Giovanni Air Control. "Ground every plane. Nothing leaves today!"