Who Says 'Is It Better To Speak Or To Die' In Call Me By Your Name?

Whenever Jacob called my name, his first instinct was always to utter his ex's name, "Anna". On our first anniversary, the gift he gave me was written: [Anna, let’s be together forever.] When we were intimate, he couldn't stop himself from whispering in my ear, "Anna, tell me you love me." Every time he called me by the wrong name, I could only helplessly reiterate, "My name is Anya, not Anna." Over time, Jacob probably felt some shame. Before addressing me, he would pause to think for a moment, and then successfully say my name, "Anya." Just when I thought he had finally stopped confusing the two of us, Anna suddenly returned. From then on, whenever Jacob introduced me to the rest of the pack, he called me "Anna" more frequently than ever. Even during our mating ceremony, as he held out the ring to me, he called out, "Anna, will you be my mate?" Looking at Jacob standing before me, I didn't bother to correct him this time. Since the name he called wasn't mine, I shouldn't be the one to accept.

Nico Romano told me he had no choice. After his brother Enzo died, the Varrone family needed a new Don—and Enzo’s widow, Serena, needed a child to secure the bloodline. So Nico went to her bed again and again. Every time he came back to me, he carried her perfume on his skin and the same gentle lie in his mouth. “Just wait a little longer, Valentina. Once Serena gives birth to the heir, I’ll give you and Luca everything you deserve.” So I waited. For six months, I watched the man I loved become another woman’s husband in every way that mattered. I watched my son fall asleep by the window, waiting for a father who always promised to come home and always found a reason not to. Then Serena was declared pregnant. The entire Varrone family celebrated as if a miracle had happened. Nico’s mother announced that Serena’s child would be the rightful heir, while my son would be introduced to the world as an orphan Nico had taken in. “No one can know the Don has an illegitimate child with a nobody,” she said. My son’s little hand trembled in mine. “Mommy,” Luca whispered, looking at Nico, “am I not Papa’s child?” Nico heard him. He saw the tears in his son’s eyes. But Serena held his arm, and Nico said nothing. That was the moment I stopped waiting. I took off the ring Nico had given me seven years ago and placed it in Serena’s hand. “Congratulations,” I said. “You belong in this family far more than I ever did.” Then I took my son—and the child Nico did not yet know I carried—and walked out of the Varrone mansion for the last time. They all thought I was a nameless woman with nowhere to go. They didn’t know my father was the most feared man in Italy’s underworld. And I was his only heir.

Riccardo Volsi, the youngest Don of Altamura, has an arm wrapped around my enemy, Sofia Greco, as they step over my dying body. On the night before, he had a hand clamped over my mouth and his other hand gripping my thigh as he thrust into me repeatedly in throes of passion. Yet, today he's the one who personally locks me into the workshop that will kill me. I've begged him for mercy before. I even crawl over to him like a bitch on all fours just so I can tug at his pant leg and gesture to him to save me. But Riccardo just looks at me as though I were a filthy mutt. "Sofia is the principessa of the Greco family. The fact that she likes your designs is enough for you to kneel and beg her for the right to work for her." They think I'm just a mute designer who's a nobody in this world. That's why they can trample all over me and humiliate me all they want without giving a damn about my life and death. What they don't know is that I've gotten reborn. Not only can I make them kneel before me, but I can also destroy them once and for all.

In the sun-drenched summers of Sardinia, Isabella finds a rare kind of freedom—far from the chaos of her high-powered life in New York and the suffocating legacy of her family’s ties to the mafia. For once, she can breathe, laugh, and be herself without fear or expectation. But the summer of 2021 changes everything. Haunted by the broken marriage of her parents—forced together by the iron grip of mafia tradition and the unyielding lineage of the Dons—Isabella has long abandoned the idea of love. Her heart is guarded, her trust fractured. Until she meets him. A stranger with secrets of his own. A man who sees her not as a pawn in a dynastic game, but as a woman worth knowing, worth loving. Their connection is instant, electric, and dangerous. Because in Isabella’s world, love is never simple—and freedom always comes at a price. As old loyalties clash with new desires, Isabella must choose between the life she was born into and the life she dares to dream of. In a land where the sea keeps secrets and the wind carries whispers, can love truly survive?

The day Lorenzo got kidnapped by a rival family, I found out I was three months pregnant. I took the million dollars his father offered, and I ran. The next time we met, I looked him in the eye and told him I'd been a mole for the rival family the whole time. He was chained up in a cellar, staring at me through the iron bars utterly despairing. He said he'd kill me himself, and then grind my bones to dust. Seven years later, when I saw him again, there was a beautiful woman on his arm. They were getting married. And I was so far down I had to beg him for a loan. He pulled out a thick stack of bills. Lit it on fire right in front of me. He said he'd rather burn it than give it to some whore feeding another man. He didn't know I was begging because my son was dying. His son too.

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!"