The Fonz: The Henry Winkler Story

Shortly after we said "I do," the Family sent my husband, Dario, down to the Mexican border. He told me it was a meat grinder down there—cartel territory. where guys were zipped into body bags every day. He said he had to go—to expand the territory, for the glory of the Family. He claimed it was too dangerous and that his enemies would paint a target on my back, so he wouldn't take me with him. I believed him. I stayed behind in his old, rot-infested house in New Jersey, taking care of his bitter, spiteful parents. I spent my days and nights in the Family's moldy laundromat, washing bills stained with blood. He told me he sent every dime he made down there to the widow of a brother who took a bullet for him. He asked me to be understanding. I never complained. Day after day, I pressed expensive suits in that humid laundromat, waiting for him to come home. It wasn't until the eighth year that a mobster came back drunk. When I asked about Dario, he froze, then sneered at me through a haze of alcohol. "Dario? Are you kidding? He’s been a King in Manhattan for years. He’s the youngest Underboss of the Corleone family." I stood frozen, the iron in my hand burning a hole right through a shirt. "And he got married seven years ago. Biggest cathedral in New Jersey. Half the mob was there to toast the groom..." He pulled a crumpled photo from his leather jacket. Snuggled up against my husband was a woman in a high-end couture gown—the very same "poor, widowed sister-in-law" he had told me about. The next day, I contacted a fixer who specialized in fake IDs. On the application for a one-way ticket to Europe—a ticket to vanish off the face of the earth—I filled in the fake name I had prepared long ago. He trapped me for seven years with a sham marriage. From now on, I’d be done with this damn loyalty.

On the night the Bianchi family goes bankrupt, I sell myself to the Moretti family of Newmont. Fiora Greco, the Madre of the family, has arranged for me to marry Don Lorenzo Moretti. But at that time, he's in love with a nurse named Sofia Ciampi. Although Sofia descends from the most chaotic district in Brookland, Lorenzo is willing to give up his position as the Don for her sake. Unfortunately for Lorenzo, Fiora threatens to off herself if he doesn't marry me right away. She claims that the Donna of a mafia family must never be a commoner. On the day Lorenzo and I get married, Sofia accepts a Mexara businessman's marriage proposal and leaves Newmont. When Lorenzo's speeding toward the airport in an attempt to chase after Sofia, he gets into a car accident, which results in him losing Sofia completely. Later on, he pins the blame of losing his beloved Sofia on me. Since then, everything I own and do has price tags attached to it.

On our tenth wedding anniversary, I was trapped in a cabin with my daughter, Sofia Costello, as floodwaters raged outside. With shaking hands, I used the emergency satellite phone to call my mafia husband, Henson Costello, and begged for help. I dialed more than 90 times before the call finally went through, yet all I heard was the breathy moans of his first love, Angelina Rossi, on the other end. "Henson...slower..." Before I could even process the shock of his betrayal, I heard a conversation that sent me straight into hell. "That kid was dead weight anyway. Trading him for control of Pier 9 was the best deal the family ever made." It seemed that Leo Costello, my son, who had supposedly drowned at the beach five years ago, had not died in an accident after all. Henson had used him as part of a business deal. All this time, I had been drowning in guilt for taking him to that beach, blaming myself for the tragedy. I never knew the truth was this cruel. Tears streamed down my face as my body shook uncontrollably. After ten years of marriage, I finally realized I had never truly known the man I loved and sacrificed everything for. I picked up my phone again and dialed Vincenzo Moretti's number. "Vince, I'll marry you. But you have to help me destroy the Costello family from power." After a brief silence, his voice came through the line. "Aurelia Astor, I've been waiting ten years to hear you say that."

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone. He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features. I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs. I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld. Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life." But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end." Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society. While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino. Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time. When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed. "But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"

Three days to Yvonne's birthday, she received unsettling news: her father had agreed to marry her to the most powerful Mafia leader in the Country. She has no choice in the matter, there was no escape. That was her new reality. But her new husband, Enzo Davide is angry, heartbroken and seems to hate her guts. The cold, elusive Mafia lord has never quite struck Yvonne as the kind of man she'd want to spend the rest of her life with. She was more content with her sweet, thoughtful boyfriend, Henry , but when circumstances force them together. Yvonne and Enzo's hearts get entangled in a way they never saw coming, but when a chance leads to a terrible mistake, Yvonne fears she will lose the love of her life.

Everyone thinks Claire "Cindy" Parker is trouble. She's loud, flirty, always at the center of every party, and rumors follow her everywhere. To most people, she's just another girl who loves attention. They don't know the truth. They don't see the pain she hides behind her smile. As Capo of the Chicago Outfit, he's built his name on honor. In a world filled with liars and killers, his word is law. He doesn't sleep around. He doesn't play games. And he has no patience for women like Claire Parker. Or so he thinks. From the moment they meet, they clash. She pushes every one of his buttons. He calls her reckless. She calls him boring. Their arguments are endless, their tempers explosive, and staying away from each other seems impossible. But the more he watches her, the more he realizes the woman everyone judges is nothing like the rumors. And the more she gets to know him, the more she discovers the feared mobster has more honor than the so-called good men she's trusted before. She's the woman the world refuses to understand. He's the man the world fears. Together, they might be each other's greatest mistake... or the only place they've ever truly belonged.