Corrupted A Rosato & Dinunzio Novel Novels & Stories

"Yes, Uncle. I’ll send you the files. It’s in Russian, I’ll translate. But I won’t read it. I don’t want to interfere more than necessary." "You can leave brat. I owe you one." he smiles, the boy was like a son to him. "I just want money, you know." Lorenzo laughed on the other side. "In 15 minutes it will be on your account. One more thing. Look for any encrypted file with the name Rosso. But, don’t open it, right?" "Right. See you later." ---------- Mateo arrived at the most expensive joint in town and exclusive to mobsters and their employees. The gate was opened as soon as Mateo showed his face.

Suddenly Rosaline cleared her throat and turned to Kristine who sat at Martelli’s left. Martelli sat at the head of the table to his left was Kristine and then Alexander at his right. Rosaline sat just after Kristine. “So, what were you into before you joined MARRT?” She asked Kristine. “Do you always have to be a nuisance?” Martelli asked angrily. The whole table went quiet. “But I did nothing wrong.” Rosaline responded. “Since she’s new, I thought she should do some introduction.” “Your thoughts are irrelevant.” Martelli fired back. “As a matter of fact, you are the one person on this table who doesn’t fit by default.”

“First Corrado, then the council, then the whisperers in Rome.” They moved down the corridor together, footsteps in sync. Gaslighting was Lorenzo's weapon—tonight, they wielded exposure, the kind that burns lies to ash. By midnight, their team had dismantled Corrado’s operations. Proof of bribery and falsified documents were delivered to the council via anonymous courier. Within hours, Corrado's empire collapsed — not with roar, but with silence. Alessandro returned to their quarters afterward, exhausted but undefeated. Valentina awaited him, now dressed in dark velvet, the glow of the fire painting her skin like sin.

______ Episode 11 – The Mafia Affairs The rain fell on New Corinth like a judgment, washing the grime from the asphalt but never from the souls beneath. From the back booth of Il Caffè della Luna, Pope Conti watched the downpour through the streaked window. At twenty-eight, he had the lean build of a man who worked with his hands and the guarded eyes of one who knew the city’s true currency wasn’t money, but fear. His auto shop was three months behind on its “insurance” payments to the Moretti family. The envelope in his leather jacket pocket, thin, final, and utterly insufficient, felt like a lead weight.

He gave it a deliberate, firm squeeze and a sharp gasp escaped my lips. "Why are you making noise?" Rocco snapped, his eyes narrowing at me. "Nothing," I quickly shook my head. "I just... I just noticed the figures aren't adding up." Rocco sat up immediately as he frowned. “What's not adding up?” He asked. Dante squeezed my ass again, harder this time, but I held the gasp at the back of my throat. "Um the issue is right here," I said, my voice strained, pointing a trembling finger at the ledger. "The imported vintage wine and the…AHH!” I couldn't help myself as he slid his hands into my pants and he's pinching the raw skin now.

"Tell me, Rosita, what really happened to your jacket? And what are you hiding?” Here's a continuation of the scene: Rosita's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape from the truth. "I... uh... I must have dropped it in the hallway, and someone must have picked it up and returned it to me." Romario's face turned red with anger. "Enough lies!" he thundered, slamming his fist on the table. "You're hiding something, Rosita, and I will not be deceived!" Rosita cowered, her eyes wide with fear. "P-please, Master Romario, have mercy..."

he said, his voice steady, though the words felt like they might falter. Silvio turned slowly, his sharp blue eyes locking unto Damian’s. He stubbed out his cigarette on a small dish beside him "What have you found?" Damian walked forward and handed him the envelope "She isn't Rosa, Don. She's Jia Ottavio, married to Enzo Ottavio" Silvio's jaw clenched, his hand curled into a fist, but his expression remained cool, almost detached. He opened the envelope and scanned the papers quickly. Damian's voice cut through the silence again.

And what's even more interesting? Don Rossini is paying a visit to the casino. The mission is to destroy the casino as a vendetta to what he did to my family — Corenza. A hand rested on my shoulder, pressing lightly more like a pat. “Valentine, Keep your head on the mission." If it isn't Rossetti, the underboss of the Corenza clan. His face was stern when I looked up to him. "Sure. Rossetti. Have I ever failed?”

His gaze, dark and sinister, locked onto me over his shoulder. "And one more thing," he added. "Elena is hosting a celebration tonight, and we're short on entertainment. Be there." I picked up the check from the floor, blowing gently on the wet blood until it was dry enough to fold, then slipped it into my inner pocket. The paper pressed against my fresh wound, but I felt no pain. "Fine. As long as you pay," I said flatly. … The Santoro Estate was ablaze with light. Once, this had been the Rossi ancestral home. Three years ago, when the Rossi famiglia fell, and I was sent to prison, Lorenzo seized our territory with ruthless efficiency—including this very estate.

I should be allowed to have some fun. “Rose, you were only attacked last month. You need to be careful with anyone new you meet—“ I stir my spaghetti with my fork whilst cutting off Paul’s sentence. “Not everyone is a crazy psycho. He’s just a new guy at my school and I doubt he’s going to try and kill me.” Ivan joins us at the table with his meal now, looking between Paul and me like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. Felix has given up on warning me not to poke the beast so now he’s just stuffing his face with spaghetti.