Bianca D'alessio Father Novels & Stories

Alessio said with an expression that matched that of his aloof father. "Of course. You can list them out and when I come back tomorrow, we'll see what we can do, yes?" He said and stood up. "We'll see each other again, tesoro." And with one last glance, he walked out of the lobby. "You never lied, mama. Papa is in New York and we're going to see him tommorow." Alessio jumped up and gave me a kiss. With a fake smile on my lips and weak legs, I gathered them together and walked to the elevator, so we could go us see Bianca.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Matteo Cattaneo has her now. Says he’s marrying her. He’s already hurt her, sent me a picture. She had tears in her eyes and looked so scared. So helpless.” His jaw clenched as he stared straight ahead. “And today… I found out her real father isn’t just Camorra. It’s Alessandro DeLuca. Their fucking consigliere.” “What?” I breathed. “I thought Riccardo was her dad. I thought she was a Morelli. What the actual fuck is going on?”

For the next seven days, Alessandro didn’t come home. Instead, he was seen everywhere else. Bianca stood beside him at a charity auction hosted by the De Luca foundation. She attended Sunday Mass at Palermo Cathedral with him. She was present at a private dinner with two capos from the western coast. It wasn’t public news. They didn’t need to be. In Sicily, word traveled through people, not headlines. My mother called me first. “She was standing next to him,” she said carefully. “Not behind him.”

“What?" Alessia's voice rang out in the entire living room as she stared at Salvatore and Marcel. They had just explained their relationship with her, but Alessia found it rather funny. She had a family other than Simone and her mother. Her father was alive? But Simone said her father died a long time ago. And Alessia couldn't deny it considering that Salvatore has her looks. There was no denial. “Yes, I am your father, and this is your twin brother," Marcel said with tears almost falling from his eyes. He watched his daughter, it even surprised him how this was possible. She looked so much like Celine. How was that possible?

"Correction, I'm not a Morano. I was a pawn, a mistake raised by a man who wasn't even my father. My mother birthed Morano — The late Mafia lord. That makes me the forgotten daughter, because I disown the man that's supposed to be my father, long time ago. And now, I want my share.... In the property." Lorenzo folded his arms. "And Luca is your obstacle.... Huh..." "He always has been," she snapped. "The devil wrapped in charm and arrogance. But not anymore. I have Bianca. I have the property links. All I need... is Alessia out of the way. That's the price Bianca demanded. And it can be accomplished through you. So I decided to trace you here. " Lorenzo's expression faltered for just a momen

my father stood up and both shake hands and bumped their shoulders. “It is good to see you.” I slowly stood up from my seat and walked towards them. “It is good to see you too,” my father said, stepping aside a bit and putting his hand on my shoulder and pushing forward. “This is my son, Alessandro.” Aloiso’s gaze shifted to mine, and I could feel the weight of his scrutiny. A smile cracked on his face as he offered his hand to me. “Ah, so this is the young Conti,” he said, shaking my hand and nodding his head. “I have heard so much about you. Rumor says you are quite the brains of the La Bandoni Familigia now.”

the old Don added, his voice like ice, “Bianca is… whole. She can give the Falcone family a healthy heir.” I sat bolt upright in the bed, rage burning through me. “Are you kidding me? She slept with my fiancé!” “So what?” my father sneered. “At least she has discretion. She didn’t throw a tantrum and lose a child because of it.” “So this is my fault?” “It is what it is,” the patriarch said, standing up. “Nico has chosen Bianca. We will honor his choice.” I looked at Nico, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

"Vincenzo." His father extended his hand for a handshake and I, still staring daggers at his whore of a son, accepted the shake. This was because of Padre. If not, I would sure as hell slap Mr. Giuseppe's hand off me. "Alessio has told me so much about you." My breathing ceased. "And I must say what a lovely kid you are." My brows moved a bit in confusion. I risked a glance at Alessio who still had his smirk on. What the fuck was going on?

This was the man who had sent for me from the convent. The man who'd made sure I got hot food every day. I should have been grateful to him. But five years was enough. And Bianca was back now. "Don," I said, "I want a divorce. Bianca's home now." He was pouring himself a whiskey. His hand stilled when I spoke. A few drops splashed onto the desk. "Dario isn't well. You know how difficult he is. Do you really think a girl like Bianca can take care of him?"

It still hurt Alessia that Bianca and Elena had moved on so easily after the sudden, tragic death of her real father — the man who had loved her, protected her, and kept her safe from Elena’s madness. Bianca hadn’t shown a single ounce of grief or remorse. Instead, she had accepted Don Antonio De Rossi as her new patriarch without missing a beat. *He’s dead and gone, Alessia… let’s see who’s ever going to protect you now,* Bianca had whispered cruelly into her ear on the day of the funeral, her face twisted with sick delight. Alessia had spent countless sleepless nights wondering if they even shared the same bloodline — if perhaps Bianca had never been her father’s daughter to begin with.