Is 'That’S A Bingo!' A Real Quote From Inglourious Basterds?

“Are you sure that you want to do this, Diablo?” She asked, looking at her husband to nodded. “They shot the first bullet and it's time for me to shoot the rest. And I do believe that you're not going to let them live after everything that has happened.” He said, looking at his wife, who nodded. ************************************************** It's been years since any of their enemies have shown their faces. Some have believed them to be dead. Some believe that they chose to escape. However, Diablo and Sienna knew better than to believe any of their lies. And when the first spark of flame emerged. They knew to fight back. And they fought back even harder…

When I pushed open the oakwood door to the manor’s study, I never expected to walk into such a scene. Juliana was sprawled across the desk, her posture leaving little to the imagination. As if not R-rated enough, her mini dress was pulled up to her waist, and her black lace clung to her thigh, barely covering her modesty. She looked back with a smile. “Alessia, my back is acting up again. Matteo’s just helping me out.” Matteo, my husband and a Don, rose to his feet, a tube of ointment in hand. He didn’t look like someone who had been caught out. “She couldn’t reach her back, so I thought I ought to lend a hand.” Matteo grabbed the dressing and pressed the gauze against her skin. He sure took his time. Tilting her head, Juliana met my gaze. “Don’t get the wrong idea. We grew up together. That’s how family is. We don’t care about that kind of stuff.” In my past life, I bolted into the room and grabbed Juliana by the hair to yank her off the desk. She turned to the side, shoving me hard into the sharp corner of the desk. I hit my head on the cold marble edge. The next thing I knew, I was a dead body in the morgue. This time, I stood in the doorway motionlessly. Since Juliana wanted to play the game, I’d be sure to hold my cards close to my chest.

Fifteen years ago, Vincenzo Marchetti pushed me down a stairwell at Saint Catherine's Academy and shattered my skull. I spent four months in the hospital with a fractured head, broken ribs, and bleeding in my brain. The doctors said I would have chronic migraines for the rest of my life and that the scar would never fade.  Vincenzo Marchetti never faced a single consequence because his family owned the school, the hospital, and the police. Two years ago, his mother approached my father at a community event and said her son wanted to meet me. I should have run. But in our world, refusing a Marchetti wasn't really an option for a family like mine. When Vincenzo sat across from me at that first dinner, I watched his face carefully for any sign of recognition. But there was nothing—just polite interest and charm. Maybe he had forgotten or maybe I had been so insignificant that breaking my body was just another Tuesday for him. So I said yes when he proposed. I smiled at our wedding and I played the role of the perfect mafia wife. For one year, I lived in his penthouse cage. He cooked me breakfast, remembered my coffee order, and whispered that he loved me every night before I slept. Then I found the note on his phone, created ten days before we ever met. Six words that destroyed everything. Isabella Russo, the game has begun. Our entire marriage was a revenge and I was the pawn he married to humiliate his rival family.  But Vincenzo Marchetti made one critical mistake —he thought I would stay broken. I planted bugs in his office, stole his financial records and made an alliance with his most dangerous enemy—the boy I tried to save all those years ago, who's now a Don with his own empire. In the mafia, they say you don't forgive and you don't forget. Vincenzo taught me that lesson when he shattered my skull. Now I'm about to teach him what happens when the broken girl learns to fight back.

"The game of chess is not just any old board game but it is also the game of life. You can be represented as the king, all the others are the people around you. Check mate means game over in the game but check mate in real life means your life has come to an end..." BORING! Chess is the worst board game on earth, if you're gonna play chess, I'll consider you as one of those who exist and don't live. Chess is the game plan. I play in the tournament my father forces me to participate in using the plan I'll be using during my next heist. If I win, I use it, if I lose, I change it. Chess is a boring old board game which is the key to my fortune. I am the Black Falcon, this is my life on the board and against the law...

I loved Vincent Jones for three years. Even after his "amnesia," he still remembered only me. So I played along, threw away my study abroad dreams, stayed up all night building his game, forgave every broken promise and every bruise he left behind. Then I found out I was carrying his child. And from outside that VIP room door, I heard him laughing with his true love, counting up my humiliations like trophies. He was never sick. It was all a game. The missing bracelet in the rain? That was number one. Sabotaging my scholarship? That was seventy-two. The fall that took our baby and broke my leg? Ninety-nine. And number one hundred? He was going to destroy my life’s work, my game, in front of everyone I knew. So. He wanted to bet my heart for sport? Then I'll give him a death he can't come back from. Claire Bennett died in that plane crash. Now? You can call me June An. And Vincent Jones? He's going to pay for every single one of the hundred times he broke me.

At my eighteenth birthday celebration, my cousin gave me a half-scratched lottery ticket as a coming-of-age gift. When he realized I'd won twenty dollars, he suddenly demanded to buy the ticket from me for two hundred thousand. Something about it felt wrong, and I refused. Then he snapped. Like a man gone mad, he cursed me, wishing me dead, and in front of all the guests, shoved me off the balcony. Dozens of people watched, including my own parents, silently condoning him—joining in, shouting that I deserved to die. And then I opened my eyes… and I was back half an hour earlier. My cousin sneered, tossing the lottery ticket toward me, speaking the same familiar words.