Corrupted A Rosato & Dinunzio Novel Novels & Stories

No. Rosaline Guerra was Domenico’s heart, the only person people had ever seen him soft toward. And so was Dom. He was the best brother Rosaline—any woman—could’ve gotten. She was happy because of him, despite all the trash our world had spread about her. “Why?” I breathed out. Solano arched a brow. “Why? Ask me with whom. She has been in an affair with the capo of ‘Ndrangheta for the past two or three months. There’s a huge ass article about it.”

Yakuza. It was the Yakuza who grew the most impatient. It was the Yakuza who attacked them first tonight. Marchetti got a tip from Dante Leone that they’d attack in their attempt to snatch the chip from Adrian. The moment I learned about it from Bitter Prince, I came swiftly. Except, it was almost too late for Tatiana. The door to the hospital room slid open and Nikita’s heavy footsteps echoed on the floor. I was surprised he insisted on staying. He hated hospitals with a passion. I figured he felt bad for the woman. It was the first time he witnessed a woman almost dying.

"It excites me to call you that way, although I know you're not, but as I was saying, it's the best moment, because simply, we'll make a damned bomb explode at the reception of that wedding and wipe out absolutely everyone, especially Amelie and Damian, that dog! Cursed dog, who kept everything we had worked for all our lives." "Lorenzo, a stupid bomb? Is that your magnificent plan? It seems like the most ridiculous plan of all; the best thing was to have returned to the company." Lorenzo went towards Rosalia, crouched down to her level, grabbing her chin and digging his bony fingers into her skin. "Are you stupid or what? Do you think those bastards will let you return to the company, as if

They were the rot beneath the marble. That evening, when the maid knocked and rolled in the dinner cart, Rose surprised herself. She took the tray with trembling hands. The smell of roasted meat and warm bread undid her pride. She ate, mouth greedy, hands unsteady. Each bite was like a betrayal, yet she devoured it. She needed strength. If she wanted to escape, if she wanted the world to know the truth, she had to live first. Dante had not stepped into Bella’s wing of the house for days. Business with Vittorio had chained him to the old man’s side, and his thoughts were a constant battlefield between strategy and memory.

"Though perhaps a bit too much rosemary." Lorenzo stared at his daughter, a grim, satisfied smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "A Valeriano must always appreciate quality, Isabella. Even in the middle of a cleaning." He waved his hand dismissively toward the guards. "Drag Bruno out to the orchard. He’s making a mess of the rug." As the guards moved to drag the heavy corpse away, Lorenzo turned his bloodshot eyes toward Dante. "And you, Ghost. You didn't blink. Most men lose their appetite when the ledger gets balanced at the table."

— Meanwhile, Rosette sat frozen in the restaurant. The file Cesare had given her was still open on the table. She had read the same page three times, hoping the words would somehow change. But they didn’t. The name circled in red ink stared back at her. A name from her past. A name she hadn’t thought about in years. “This doesn’t make sense,” she said quietly. Cesare watched her carefully. “It makes more sense than you think.” Rosette shook her head slowly. “No. This person… they barely knew me.”

My hands trembled around the edge of the leather folder as Matteo turned the final page beneath the harsh light of Salvatore's office. The ledger had taken us nearly two hours to fully understand, decades of careful financial entries connecting names I recognized and names I had never once heard mentioned in all the months I had spent inside Rossaro walls. Renata sat quietly in the corner, wrapped in a blanket someone had found for her, watching us piece together the truth she had protected for so long. The office had grown stale with the smell of cold coffee and dying candlelight, and outside the small window the sky had shifted from black to the pale, exhausted grey of early morning, thoug

the past now “, why do you seem to get all so worked up, he added. Then I looked at him unsure of what to say. “Nothing, was just so annoying seeing the two of you shaking hands” I said while he saw his eye boring into me from my head to toe. “Rose” he said while coming closer towards me, you seemed so vent up right now , what happened, he asked as my head was turning and churning right now. “Should I tell him, should I not tell him” I thought about it as my head swayed and swayed unsure of what to do. “He wants me back!!” I blurted out, perhaps I could tell him about the threats. “And he is threatening me to have me back, he was at my apartment the other day with a gun” I said out to him a

"Ms. Marino, when should we reschedule? I'll make sure the date is cleared for you." Before I could find my voice, the television in the lobby cut to a breaking news segment. "Antonio Bianco, the newly anointed Don of the Bianco famiglia, was spotted attending a council meeting with his late brother's widow, Rosetta Serra. The matching rings on their left hands have sparked frantic speculation." The screen flashed a photo of Antonio with his arm draped protectively around Rosetta's shoulders, his free hand raised in a sharp gesture to ward off the prying lenses of the paparazzi.

“Not funny, Tesoro.” “Oh, it is.” Vivienne doubles down on her laughter, falling back onto the pillows. My gaze sheepishly darts to Nero. He isn’t laughing. He’s rocking a scowl dark enough to blot out the sun, which only makes bubbles of laughter trip past my lips. “It definitely is.” “Come on,” Renzo hisses softly, gaze turned toward me. “Don’t tell me she’s already corrupting you?” Vivienne scoffs. “She’s my best friend. If anything, we corrupt each other.” I can’t help the chuckle that slips past my lips again, echoing my best friend’s own.