Stepsister Stole My Life I Took Her World
At the awards for the Global Jewelry Design Competition, my stepsister Sandra took the grand prize.
She used the designs she stole from me.
What she didn’t know was the show’s biggest sponsor: Jude Moretti. Godfather of the Moretti family. A bloodthirsty monster scarred in an explosion, a man they say can never have children.
And the grand prize? Becoming the Godfather’s bride.
That night, Moretti’s men, all in black, delivered a gold-trimmed marriage contract. They were here for the “genius designer.”
My fiancé, Marco, panicked. He whisked Sandra off to Vegas to save her.
They got married that night.
With the deed done, Sandra strutted back in, wearing my silk robe. She flashed the ring on her finger and the hickies all over her neck.
“Marco’s mine now,” she purred. “What are you going to do, Odessa? The Godfather’s only giving you a day. If you don’t marry him, the Family will have to appease him. That means sending you to the red-light district. Selling you to the kind of sicko who gets off on broken things.”
She was wrong. I had another choice.
I found my father and stepmother, both scrambling to deal with the contract.
“I’ll do it,” I said. “I’ll marry the Godfather.”