Tears Don't.fall Lyrics Novels & Stories

At the auction, Victor raised his paddle and won the twenty-three-carat rough pink diamond. He waved a casual hand. "It's for Lillian." Sitting beside him, I went still, a tremor running through me so faint no one noticed. Only then did he seem to remember me. "Use the leftovers for a pair of earrings," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Give them to Claudia." Later, I followed the family's orders and married him. I became the Donna of the Medici Family. We spent a steady, loveless lifetime together. On my deathbed, Victor held my hand and asked if I had any last wishes. I looked at my jewelry box. The top tray was filled with pieces made from his scraps, the leftovers from every gift he'd ever given Lillian. I drew my last breath without answering. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment the two Families were competing for the Medici Donna's seat. In my previous life, I'd held the Smith & Wesson, fired ten shots, and hit ten bullseyes. The old Don had named me the future Donna of his Family on the spot. This time, I let out a slow breath and pulled the trigger. I missed on purpose.

I was on vacation with my mother at our country vineyard when a message arrived from Ava, my husband's personal secretary. He was the new Don of the Falcone family. The photo showed a woman, bruised and naked, curled up on the floor of a cold cellar. It was followed by a voice message, her tone arrogant: "Helen, is this what you peasants do? Claw your way out of the mud just to leech off the Don?" "Don Lorenzo just acquired this estate, and you have the nerve to let your blind, ill-mannered mother wander in here to freeload? As the Don's personal secretary, it's my job to uphold the Falcone family's dignity." "This is the price for trespassing on the Don's estate!" I froze, my eyes lifting to the other side of the long table where my mother was sipping her red wine, perfectly safe. I zoomed in on the photo. The moment I saw the details, my heart seized. On a pale hand was a familiar ring. It was the heirloom the Falcone Madre never took off. I immediately dialed Ava's number. "Ava, are you insane? That's Lorenzo's mother!" A careless, almost flirtatious laugh came from the other end of the line. "The Don may consider you his property, but he never agreed to take in your dirt-poor family."

When my husband, Drake Connor, posted a photo of me on social media, this random woman mistook me for his mistress. She confronted me in the street, a baby in her arms and a crowd of relatives and friends in tow, ready to teach me a lesson. "You shameless tramp! How dare you seduce my husband! "I’ll beat you to death, you disgusting woman!" The crowd beat me, smashed my car, and ripped my clothes. I left that encounter bruised and battered, suffering a concussion and a fractured arm. In the end, I called the police and demanded justice. I had a divorce agreement drawn up and threw it in Drake's face. "If it weren’t for me, you’d be begging in the streets! And now you dare to hide a woman and child from me? "Get out! Don’t expect a penny from me!"

During the third year of our marriage, my husband's ex—whom he dated for eight years—suddenly shares a photo of a ten-million-dollar marital home on her social media. It's captioned, "I've finally gotten a mansion! Who's the best at dating? I am!" I gape at the image—I see my husband swiping his card at the real estate sales office in a corner of the photo. I leave a question mark in the comments. In the next second, my husband calls me to tell me off. "I'm just making good on a promise I made her when we were dating—to buy her a marital home. Why did you have to go insult her like that? Are you evil enough to turn me into a man who goes back on his word?" That evening, his ex shares another photo of a million-dollar renovation bill. I know it's a gift from my husband to appease her, but I don't care anymore…

Lilith POV A pair of cold, bloodshot eyes stare back at me; if eyes could , I'm sure I would be dead by now. No wonder this place looks so familiar; it is because it's the mansion belonging to my owner, the man I was sold to, "Don Air." My orb fell on Flora, who was kneeling on the floor. Her hair was messy, and I could see bruises from her shoulder down to her arms, making me wonder what happened to her. "I gave you a to do, and you messed it up, huh?" The cold voice of Don Air was forwarded to Flora. He stomped his feet on her body continuously, and her screams and cries filled the atmosphere, bringing nothing but horror. "Master, please! Oh, please!" She cried in pain as she continued to get hit; her body was somersaulting on the floor. I look around the large sitting room, wondering why nobody is helping by stopping this cruel master or even pleading on her behalf, but I see few with pitiful expressions. My gaze met the man known as Thierry, the man's son. For awhile, I forgot he even existed. I got a sharp glare from him, and I looked away. "Please?  "If you are sorry, then you will not think of ruining my business, you good for nothing harlot," he yelled at Flora before leaving the girl. "You!"  His voice thurd in my ear, and I cringe in fear as goosebump from fear clouded my body. He was walking towards me with such a dominating and dangerous demeanor. "Argh!"  I was pulled by my hair and flung to the wall barely. I felt a liquid running down my head down to my nose—it's blood!

In the fifth year of my marriage with Luca Salvatore, his older brother, Kendall Salvatore, suddenly passes away. As such, Luca becomes the new Don due to the circumstances. But the Salvatore family has one condition for Luca—he has to sire an heir with Kendall's widow, Cindy Newton, in order to maintain the marriage alliance between both families. I refuse to accept that condition. Luca turns it down firmly as well. He even takes my hand and makes a vow right in front of me. "Xandra, I will never yield to my family. You're the only woman fit to become the Donna of the Salvatore family. Our child can be the only one who inherits my position as the Don in the future." But gradually, he has been staying up late due to family affairs more and more often. There's also unfamiliar perfume clinging to his clothes. But today is the day when my suspicions are finally proven to be true thanks to a video sent by an unknown number. In the video, Luca can be seen accompanying Cindy to a prenatal check-up. As he caresses her baby bump, he says in a tender tone, "You must have suffered a lot, Cindy. Thank you for siring the heir of the Salvatore family." At that moment, I finally realize that Luca has already broken the vow he has made to me. Hence, I burn down our home and leave without hesitation. After all, my dad—the Don of the Caprese family—is already urging me to go home and take over the family as the new Donna.

The day Lorenzo got kidnapped by a rival family, I found out I was three months pregnant. I took the million dollars his father offered, and I ran. The next time we met, I looked him in the eye and told him I'd been a mole for the rival family the whole time. He was chained up in a cellar, staring at me through the iron bars utterly despairing. He said he'd kill me himself, and then grind my bones to dust. Seven years later, when I saw him again, there was a beautiful woman on his arm. They were getting married. And I was so far down I had to beg him for a loan. He pulled out a thick stack of bills. Lit it on fire right in front of me. He said he'd rather burn it than give it to some whore feeding another man. He didn't know I was begging because my son was dying. His son too.

When war orphan Alexei Volkov flees Russia to Belgium, survival means stealing scraps until a mob nearly burns him alive. Rescued by Lucien Devereux, the ruthless Capo of Brussels’ underworld, Alexei is thrust into a world of blood, secrets, and power. Trained as an assassin and spy, he becomes indispensable—until a mystical ring from his uncle in India makes every man who sees him fall hopelessly in love. Soon, the Capo, the Mayor, the Police Inspector, and even the Governor crave for him. Is it love or a curse? And in a city drowning in obsession, who will Alexei choose?

Everyone in the underworld knew Rosalie Thorne, the "Thorn Principessa" of the North. Wild, rebellious, notorious. Street racing, high-stakes gambling, guns, and drinking, she had mastered them all. The rose-and-thorn tattoo on the nape of her neck drove countless men wild. But what they didn't know was that for Rocco, the new mob boss of the South, a single sentence, "I prefer a more obedient woman," was all it took. At his word, I had the tattoo lasered off and swapped my leathers for long, conservative dresses. I am Rosalie. For five years, I hid my identity and played the porcelain doll Rocco wanted. Until the night he eliminated all his rivals and was crowned the new Don of the South. That was when he let his men bow to another woman, hailing her as their "Donna." I watched Rocco. The same hands that had just executed a traitor were now gently placing a pair of red high heels on the feet of his adoptive sister, Vivian. "Rosalie, she has a temper. She'll make a scene if she doesn't get the title." "You're the good one, the obedient one. Just let her have this." That day, I walked straight out into the rain and never looked back. I was never truly obedient. I just made myself smaller for him. My family had already chosen a husband for me. They had been waiting five years, just for me to say yes.

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!"