Simbolo Ng Matatag Na Pamilya 소설 & 이야기

I just shook my head and listened as he continued speaking. “Each family carves their family crest onto the stones of their home, its similar to how human’s number their doors, it’s how we find each other. Each member of a family has a different symbol that they are given at birth, sometimes it’s an animal or even a simple design, but everyone is different. Additions are made to the carving when people get married, move out of the home and when they die. That's your family crest.” He pointed to a large stone set above the doorway. The carving was of an intricate interlocking pattern, similar to a Celtic knot, a design that was very familiar and I found myself playing with the pendant around

She hesitantly pushed it toward me, and I caught my name in cursive on the front and the Di Santoro family symbol stamped into the wax on the back. I looked up at my mother and then back down at the letter, "The Di Santoro family? What could they possibly want with me?" I asked, a deep, dark pit forming in my belly. A flash of guilt overtook my mother's face, but it was quickly wiped away as she struggled to form an explanation.

One line, written in a hand she recognized instantly. > Don’t trust anyone wearing the crest of the black lion — not even him. Her breath caught. The symbo l of the black lion — Alessandro’s family emblem — gleamed on the ring he never took off. The letter slipped from her fingers, carried off by the wind.

Everything he had once hated about his father now stared at him like prophecy. He picked up the ring and turned it over in his hand. The Maretti crest caught the light, throwing it across his knuckles in a thin blade of silver. It could symbolize union. It could symbolize death. In this family, it usually meant both. He slipped it into his pocket and straightened his jacket. By the time he walked out of the study, the engines in the courtyard had gone quiet. His men were waiting—not Cesare’s soldiers, but his. The ones who still believed in him, not the family name.

"The Moretti family's ancestral emerald ring. It belongs to the Matriarch of the family." "I will invite all the high-ranking members of the Five Families and give you the grandest, most glorious coronation." Lucas rambled on. I looked at the photos covering the wall behind him. This time, he had not gotten it wrong. Those were indeed five years of our precious memories. But that emerald ring, the symbol of the Matriarch, now seemed like nothing more than a bitter joke. "I am not coming back," I told him, my voice flat.

Maybe this was reckless. But wasn't that the point? "Your majesty! Work with me!" "How brazen! With the status of a lower noble!" "It'd be better to do business with my family!" "If you're going to do business with them then do this with our commoner family too!" "Then with me!" "Enough," I said, raising a hand. The room snapped quiet. "What's with that symbol?" I asked. "Do you have the tattoo?" "The second prince's faction uses it to identify the people he works with and trusts," someone answered.

she looked at me to see my reaction of her words but I had none, I was too scared-struck to react. She sipped her wine and continued “we are the St. Vincent family, a very big organization with wings all over the world and that card in your hand, that symbol, it’s ours….for generations, we’ve been the most powerful, influential and top business group in the whole of Mexico. We’ve made strong allies and remained the best, never in a century have we had a step backward”. She stood up and walked over to my side and sat by the desk. “My family had always been the leaders, passed down from our first generations to myself and now…you my child” she raised up her head to mine.

The girlfriend muttered in dissatisfaction, “Who is that man? How could he be so domineering and block the temple just like that? He’s simply… Mm… mm…” She could not finish the latter part of her sentence because her boyfriend had covered her mouth. “Be quiet. Do you see the totem of the pair of phoenixes on the car? That is the symbol of the Harlowe family from the capital city. It belongs to the famous Harlowe family!” “Famous? Why haven’t I heard of them before, then?”

"What do you mean, tesoro?" "Mamma seems sometimes sad and I seen you sleeping sometimes in the wrong room….And the other daddy keeps visiting." She looked up at him with those grey-blue eyes—Mikal's eyes. "Are we still a family?" Massimo pulled her into his lap. "Yes. Always. No matter what happens, we're a family." "Even with the other daddy?" "Even then. Family isn't just people who live together, Isabella. It's people who love each other. Who are there for each other. Who choose each other every day."

("What is that?" Marco's lips tugged into a faint smile, "È un simbolo della nostra famiglia," he explained. ("It’s a symbol of our family.") Marcello reached up and touched the tattoo, and Marco leaned closer to him to let him touch it, "Significa forza e protezione. Lo indosso per ricordare che la nostra famiglia è tutto." ("It means strength and protection. I wear it to remind me that our family is everything.") Marcello’s eyes widened in awe as he took in Marco’s words. "Posso averne uno anch'io?" he asked, ("Can I have one too?")