Perfectly Tragic Alex Grayson Pdf

"How can you say that about me, Nathan? I never had a kid!" Aaron Fuller protests. My wife, Jenny Green, stands protectively in front of him. "That's enough! You can't slander Aaron just because you're jealous of him. Just you wait, Nathan. I haven't settled the score with you for calling Aaron this afternoon and insulting him!"

I'd made plans to spend New Year's Eve with my fiancee, Sophie Bennett. I'd even rushed home with a custom cake I picked up just for us. However, my smile slipped the second I walked in. A photo of Sophie and me that was hanging on the wall was being used as a dartboard. Her guy best friend, Sean Hewitt, had one arm wrapped around her waist while casually throwing darts at it. "Oh, hey, you're back?" he said with a grin. "Perfect timing. We're playing Truth or Dare." The words had barely left his mouth when another dart hit the photo—right in my face. My chest tightened as I parted my lips to call him out. Yet, Sean only laughed. "Wow, hit you again? Guess even fate thinks you two aren't meant to be." Then, he added, all fake innocence, "Don't get the wrong idea, alright? It's just a game. Sophie and I are basically bros. You're not seriously bothered by this, are you?" I stood there, completely still. As I stared at that photo completely riddled with holes, I couldn't help but think it looked a lot like my heart at that moment. Sophie gave him a half-hearted scolding. "Alright, cut it out." But Sean just put on a wounded look and kept his arm around her waist. Sophie only smiled helplessly before turning to me with clear impatience. "Sean's just messing around. Don't stand there with that look on your face and kill the mood. It's just a photo. We can print another one tomorrow. Stop being so petty."

I was a human girl raised in turns by vampires, elves, and werewolves. To repay them, I signed a three-year repayment contract with all three races, dividing my time and service among their leaders. When the vampire count was weakened by sunlight, I cut open my wrist and let him drink my blood. When the elven prince's Tree of Life began to wither, I stepped into the forbidden forest and traded ten years of my life with a witch in exchange for spring water that restored the tree to full vitality. When the werewolf Alpha's wolf spirit grew restless, I searched for the herbs that could soothe him. I always knew my place, and I never crossed the line. The vampire count sneered at me. "Leah, you're more obedient than the blood servants I keep. The moment I summon you, you offer your wrist on your own." The elven prince warned coldly, "This is only a transaction. Once the Tree of Life recovers, you will leave as agreed. Don't imagine I would ever make an exception for you." The werewolf Alpha tossed a check at my feet. "This is your contract fee for the next three years. It's enough to last you a lifetime. Don't forget this. You haven't been marked, so don't overstep." Later, I finally repaid everything and prepared to return to the human world. The vampire count was willing to stand under the burning sun just to make me stay. The elven prince threatened to destroy the Tree of Life if I left. The werewolf Alpha dropped to one knee and presented me with the Luna's crown. In unison, they said, "You're not allowed to marry anyone else."

“Help me fake my death and arrange a completely new identity.” “Donna,” the man was clearly shocked. “Why? The Don dotes on you. The whole of Sicily knows—” “That’s none of your business,” I interrupted him. “I’m leaving in five days.” Walking out of the black market, the LED screen in the square was still showing footage of my lavish wedding with Don Alexander three years ago, a ceremony that cost over $500 million. Everyone thought Don Alexander loved me deeply, and I thought so too. Until this afternoon, on our third wedding anniversary, I returned to Sicily early, hiding in the lounge of my husband—Don Alexander’s—office, wanting to surprise him. Instead, I saw his secretary hiding under his desk. While the underboss Marco was reporting the losses from the dock smuggling operation, Isabella was kneeling between Alexander’s legs, skillfully unbuttoning his trousers. Her head bobbed up and down. After Marco left, Isabella smiled seductively. “Could your Donna serve you like this during a meeting?” Alexander’s voice was filled with desire. His hands kneaded her breasts. “Sophia is too conventional, too boring. You’re much more exciting in bed, you little slut.” I covered my mouth, completely devastated. But when I actually left, the Don, who had found me boring, was the one who completely broke down.

When I was 18 years old, Luigi Conti, the craziest heir of the Conti family, pulled out a gun at an auction and executed the Don of the Serra family. That man happened to be my foster father, also the one who had me auctioned away as though I were a slave. When he was being dragged toward the armored car by the military police, he kept laughing like mad despite having blood streaking down his face. "Why must I atone for my sins? Since God refuses to save you, let me be your savior! From now on, no one in Sandalay has the guts to clip your wings anymore, my darling Isabella!" Seven years later, Luigi gets released from prison. He looks at me as I wash dishes for a living in the slums before snuffing out the cigar trapped between his fingers. That night, Luigi returns to his family and steals the position of the Don. After we get married, I'm the only person who has the highest access over the vaults under the Conti family. Luigi even forcibly expands the ring that signifies ultimate authority—which has been passed down from generation to generation for a century—and slides it onto my ring finger. He buys half of Sandalay's estates just so he can fill the vineyards with the white grapes I've mentioned in passing. He tells me that his turf is called Isabella. But everything changes when I discover a photo album stashed in a hidden compartment in Luigi's study. All 2,000 photos feature a young woman in a white dress who is reading in the library. That is the female assassin he's planning on training. The woman looks very pure and innocent. She's most suited to conquer certain bigwigs' hearts. But now, it seems that Luigi's the one being conquered by her. When Luigi finds out about my discovery, he throws the photo album into the fireplace and watches it burn in the fire with a stony expression. "I'm just repackaging her so that she can aid me in money laundering. Just pretend you never saw the photo album." I push the signed divorce agreement over to Luigi. "I said, sign the agreement." Frustrated, Luigi pins the divorce agreement on the table with a knife, his expression insanely dark. "Isabella Serra, have you forgotten about the Conti family's rules? There's no such thing as divorce. We can only be widowed."

To save Hugh, I took the hit—literally. The kidnappers beat me so bad I ended up with a brain hemorrhage. My mind? Stuck at thirteen. Hugh, all guilt and promises, said, "Wenna, I'll protect you forever." And he did. He watched over me. When the house caught fire, he threw himself over me, took the burns, didn't flinch. Then came his oh-so-perfect foster sister. "Mia's not into... slow people. Maybe you should live next door," he said. And my son? The one I nearly died bringing into the world? "Stupid woman! You embarrass me and Dad. You're nothing like Aunt Mia—she's smart and pretty. If it weren't for you, she could've been my mom. You should just die!" To play hero for Mia, my son shoved me into the street. A truck did the rest. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Hugh proposed. This time? I wasn't here for his pity. And I sure as hell wasn't marrying him.

For six years, I took bullets for him and erased every sharp edge of myself. Because of the way he protected me, outsiders all believed I was the woman closest to his heart. However, when I asked for just one sincere “I love you”, he laughed and refused. “Mafia marriages aren’t about feelings. Know your place.” Then he said, “If Sophia doesn’t like it, don’t even bother.” When the bomb countdown hit thirty seconds, my don husband shoved me aside without hesitation and ran out holding Sophia in his arms. Only then did I understand that after six years of entanglement, I wasn't even worth a single hair of his sister. I slammed the divorce papers into his face. “I’m going to personally send you and your precious sister straight to hell!”

All because he believed I pushed Elena down the stairs out of jealousy. Six months ago, a rival family drugged Alexander. Elena saved him and got pregnant. Her family disowned her for it. "Ivy, why can't you just let her be?" Alexander choked me, disappointment and rage in his eyes. "She saved my life! I promised to send her away. Why be so vicious to an unborn child? If anything happens to them, I'll bury you with them." I didn't argue. I just planned an explosion. But when I vanished, the high-and-mighty Don went mad.

I'm ten years older than Vincenzo Corleone. He had just turned 23 years old when he took over the Corleone family as the patriarch. A hint of teenage childishness could still be seen etched onto his youthful features. I was the one who held his hand and helped him calm the turbulence of his family affairs. I blocked three assassination attempts that were made on him. I used five years of my life to help him grow from a useless scion into the fearsome don who wielded the utmost authority in Nowork's underworld. Once, Vincenzo had embraced me in the church. He rested his forehead against my palm as he swore, "Age, identity, or the world's viewpoint of us will never stop us from being together, Freya. I will protect you with my life." But after that, he told his older brother, Marco Corleone, "Freya is too old. She's already 38 years old; I can practically smell the rot of age rolling off her. Even the crinkles in her smile disgust me to no end." Some time later, Vincenzo found himself a mistress who bore some resemblance to me. She was young and vibrant—like a white rose who had never experienced the ugly side of society. While Vincenzo gave me the title of the Donna of the Corleone family, he reserved his gentle, doting, and even passionate side for the mistress named Lina Marino. Vincenzo thinks he can pull everything off flawlessly. What he forgets is that the reason why I can establish my reputation in the underworld isn't because of his protection. I've been relying on my ruthlessness and my sharp sixth sense this whole time. When I slam the signed divorce agreement onto the spot before Vincenzo, I say with a smile, "You've fought by my side for so many years, so you should know very well that I can afford to go for high-stakes risks and withdraw my chips whenever needed. "But once I lose, someone here has to pay the price!"

My newlywed husband wants to kill me. He's backing me to the balcony with a knife in his hand. The blade pierces my heart, and he shoves me off a 20-story building. At the same time, I see the tear streaks on his face. He says, "Long time no see, my perfect lover."