The Don's Rebel Pet
I was a slum kid who fell for Damon Vitale, New York’s most feared Godfather.
For five years, I was his. I took nine bullets for him.
He’d kiss my scars as I bled out for him. Hold me close. Clasp the queen’s necklace around my throat.
Then, once I healed, he’d fuck me senseless, with a passion that felt like forever.
I thought we’d spend our lives together. I thought he would marry me.
But on our 999th night together, he told me he was engaged. To Bianca, a mafia princess from a rival family.
I swallowed my tears. He just grabbed my chin, blew smoke in my face, and laughed.
"You didn't really think you could marry me, did you, Nora? Let's be clear. We fuck. That's it. You're not a partner. You're a piece of art I collect. A pet I own."
A pet. That’s all he ever wanted for me.
Instead, I picked up a burner phone.
[I'm taking your offer. Three days. Get me the hell out of New York.]