Novel & Cerita Don T Mess With The Don

No we have to make them want to let him go. I turned back to the screen. "Stephen give me the phone. I am going to send them what they want." "Hannah, no! You will give them everything! The company will be destroyed!" "I am not giving them the codes to our money " I said. I am giving them a trick, a nightmare. When they use this code it will not open our accounts. It will delete all their money. Give it to the Little Star Foundation. I sent the message. We waited.

She will pay for making me feel this way. I start the engine. This isn't over, little angel. Not even close. --- My phone rings as I pull out of the estate. Marco. "Don, we found something." "What?" "Anne's been working late night shifts at a club. The Velvet Room. Dancing, maybe waitressing. She's there most nights until two or three in the morning." I grip the wheel tighter. A club. She's been dancing in some filthy club for money. "Why?" "She's struggling, Don. Living alone, working double shifts. No visible support."

Instead, her hands trembled against her cream dress, a look of profound horror and respect washing over her features. "Fifteen," Enzo barked, his voice losing a bit of its smug satisfaction. He was realizing that he couldn’t break Frank Costello. He could tear his flesh, but he couldn't bend his spine. . When the final, twentieth strike echoed through the room, the guard stepped back, his chest heaving from the exertion. The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the scent of fresh blood. For a long, terrifying moment, Frank didn't move. He remained hunched over the desk, his head bowed, blood dripping steadily from his lower back onto the polished hardwood floor.

"Please... don't leave me..." The next day, the video went viral on the dark web. The title was: THE FALLEN DON: LORENZO ROMANO'S PUBLIC MELTDOWN. In the video, the once untouchable Don of New York was being beaten like a dog, all to protect an old phone. Someone amplified the audio, making out the name I kept repeating. It wasn't a plea for mercy. It wasn't a curse. Just one word, filled with blood-soaked despair. "Bella."

Matteo’s childhood sweetheart, Sofia, was trapped between the floors of an elevator for forty minutes. Convinced that I had been jealous of Sofia, Matteo personally locked me inside the family restaurant’s walk-in freezer. “The despair Sofia felt, you need to feel twice over.” My teeth chattered from the cold as I hugged myself and desperately explained, begging him to let me out for the sake of our marriage. But Matteo took the emergency key and locked the freezer door. “Only when you learn to behave yourself are you worthy of continuing to be my Donna.” With stiffened hands, I pounded on the door until my knuckles cracked, my blood freezing into dark ice on the floor. Six days later, he ca

Maya Carter is a maid in the Romano mansion, barely surviving on dialysis while keeping her kidney failure a secret. Cold, ruthless Don Salvatore Romano hires her and expects silence, obedience, and invisibility. But when Maya collapses in the west wing and Sal finds her, something shifts. He notices her. He protects her. And slowly, the house that felt like a prison starts to feel like home. As Sal begins to care for Maya, enemies start watching. When Maya’s brother shows up asking for money, Sal chooses her over family. When Maya’s health crashes, Sal makes the impossible choice: he gives her his kidney. Going public at a gala puts a target on Maya’s back. A knife and her ph

Day three of the silent treatment. My husband Adrian Veta, the Don, once again went behind my back and approved Mirena Ricci's deeply flawed port logistics plan. He thought I would argue my case as I used to do at family meetings, but I merely responded faintly. When he saw that, he handed Mirena the docks I had spent years managing and dismissed several men who had openly supported me to establish her authority. Still, I did not fight back. Mirena smugly leaned against him. "I told you that she'll learn her place once you neglect her. She can't bear to leave you." Adrian agreed wholeheartedly. That evening, he made a rare visit to the estate, promising to give me management of the Wes

To repay Victor for saving my life, I gave up a brilliant career as one of America's finest neurosurgeons and willingly became his trophy wife. For seven years, Victor lavished money on me and treated me with bone-deep tenderness. Yet his obsessive rules suffocated me. Every other week, I had to subject my scalp to agonizing bleach treatments to keep my hair icy platinum. I had to bathe in a discontinued Venetian white iris perfume. And I had to wear a fake beauty mark at the corner of my right eye. I once mistook it all for the obsessive devotion of a Mafia Don. Then, on the eve of our wedding of the century, I found a wall covered with portraits of another woman. The measurements of my gow

Donato pulled a sleek, black card from his trouser pocket and tossed it casually toward the center of the table. "Give me a call when you change your mind." Jesse cast one dismissive glance at the card. "No thanks." He pushed through the doors and left the room without touching it. In the quiet lounge, Jesse's parting words seemed to linger, echoing in Donato's ears. He traced the edge of his jaw, a dark chuckle escaping his throat. "Mafia don't wear pants," he corrected softly. His gaze remained fixed on the closed door. "He'll be back."

Basil smashed him as he stood up, but his fist just bounced at the thousand fats of Don's body. "Damn you," Basil sounded disgusted and Don gave him an upper cut that made him flew in the wall again, "Argh!" he shook his head when he felt dizziness. "What now? I thought you're going to kill me? I'm waiting." Don said sarcastically. Basil grimaced in his bigheaded and talkative mouth. He was having hard time to defeat Don because of too much big and too much fats that is protecting his whole. Suddenly, his forehead knotted as he realized the grenades in his belt holster. Get ready fucker! "Hey yo! Little fat ass!"