Queen of Hell. The Mafia Boss’s Wife
In the distance, like a far-off echo, the rain beat against the windows of the world, and between them, the rumble of thunder echoed.
Salvatore Al Moro raised his glass of cognac, as if toasting a condemned soul.
—Then, if we’re going to destroy the bastard, let’s do it right. Let’s strip him completely.
—I already know where to start… His lover, Vanessa. She ran away, didn’t she? —asked Salvatore.
—She gave him up. That was the first stab in the back.
—Bene. I understand what you want. This time, we won’t kill him. We’ll leave him alive… so he’ll wish he wasn’t.