Under The Oak Tree Updates 소설 & 이야기

In the Valenti Family, you're born with a chip. It's fused into the bio-watch on your wrist, its digital face counting down every second you have left to live. Everyone could see the numbers ticking down on my twin sister's watch. And on mine. They all knew she would die on our 18th birthday. So Vivian became the untouchable princess of our brutal world. Every diamond-stitched gown was hers. The rarest jewels were hers. Even our father's last shred of humanity was hers. That single sliver of warmth he showed only after his gun was holstered. I used to pity her. Her time was running out. But God, I envied her. She had everything I never did: our parents' love. Then, the night of her 18th birthday party. My parents worried I'd make a scene. That I'd piss off the Don of an allied Family. So they locked me in the cellar. Damp. Cold. While a deadly fever burned through me. I pounded on the heavy oak door, my voice cracking. "Mamma, please! Let me out! I'm burning up. My head is splitting open…" Outside, my mother's voice was a steel trap. "Enough, Sienna! Today is your sister’s 18th birthday. Her last day alive! Stop the theatrics! Can't you suffer in silence for the Family's honor?" "But I'm really sick..." Her footsteps clicked away, fading into nothing. Then the darkness swallowed me whole. And on my wrist, the bio-watch was flashing a critical alert. CRITICAL ALERT: Vital signs mismatch. Paired chip data incompatible. Please verify user.

When I visit my girlfriend's house during the Christmas holidays, her cousin, Antonio Esposito, humiliates me in front of everyone because of a scar on the back of my hand. "This scar looks like a remnant of the crossfire with the mafia! Bianca, why did you think that bringing an ex-convict home was a good idea?" The entire Romano family stares at me in a mixture of horror and shock. My girlfriend, Bianco Romano, even shakes my hand off while staring at me in disgust. Not only does Antonio flip the table, but he also calls over a few hooligans in an attempt to take me to the local police station. "We must teach scumbags like him a lesson!" he declares. After that, Antonio and the hooligans strip off my jacket and strap me to the tree in the courtyard. They then attempt to force me to admit that I'm working for the mafia. I can only gnash my teeth together stubbornly, refusing to yield no matter what. What they don't know is that the scar is a medal from my time in a peacekeeping war as a soldier!

On the day of my mating ceremony with the Alpha, everyone said the only reason I got to marry Adrian Hawthorne and become Luna was because my face looked so much like my sister's. At the ceremony, the ring engraved with her name and the slip when Adrian instinctively spoke her name during his vows. Every detail was a reminder that I was nothing more than a stand-in. But I had loved Adrian in secret for seven years. Even being his stand-in was enough for me. I told myself that was enough. Twenty years later, I happened to see him standing beneath the Moonlight Tree, praying to the Moon Goddess. "If only Vanessa hadn't died back then." His voice trailed off. A sharp pain shot through my chest. The world went black. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the beginning. Back to when I had just met Adrian for the first time. This had to be a gift from the Moon Goddess. A second chance. This time, I swore I'd never love Adrian Hawthorne again.

My father was one of the first dons to rise out of the Naples mob. My mother was an iron-fisted businesswoman with a reputation that made grown men flinch. When I was ten, somebody had the nerve to hijack one of my father's freight ships. He had the man's arms and legs broken with a crowbar, then stuffed a handful of gold rings down his throat — told him to count his money while he crawled. When I was fifteen, some scheming woman tried to get her claws into my father. My mother hired the filthiest pimps off the docks, shipped her down to a back-alley bar in Marseille, and told her to make her own way. And me — I grew up running the streets of Naples like I owned them. The sons of every other family knew to call me Miss Ferrante and keep their hands to themselves. Then I met him. A rough, quiet man fresh out of the army. For him I put down the knives, traded the silk for plain cotton, and followed him back to that little nothing of a coastal town, Porto Scuro. Today my mother-in-law and my husband went down to the dock warehouses to settle a dispute. They held her face down in a barrel of rotting fish guts. They kicked in three of his ribs. I stared at the salt fish I'd been slicing on the kitchen board, let out a cold laugh, and brought the knife down so hard the oak split in half. Then I dialed my father's private line.

The first time Rafael betrayed me, he threw the woman from his club at my feet. His eyes were bloodshot as he told me to take my pick. My love for him was a sickness, so I forgave the transgression. For the second betrayal, I had the dancer sent out of New York, warning her never to set foot on the East Coast again. On the night of our engagement party, sealing the union of our two families, Rafael pinned me against the walnut desk in the study. His eyes burned with rage as he demanded: "Where is Nina? She's carrying a Mancini heir." "It was a mistake. You can take your anger out on me. Nina is naive; she doesn't deserve this. I'm begging you, just let the child be born safely. I swear I'll never see her again." "You're afraid of childbirth. This gives you an heir without the risk." "Listen, Alessia. You are the future Donna of the Mancini family. When that child is born, it will know only you as its mother. I swear on my life." He forced me backward until shards from the vase I'd knocked over cut into my skin, staining my silk dress with blood. I looked at him and smiled, then gave him the address of a safe house in Brooklyn. He slammed the heavy oak door behind him. Shaking, I pulled out my encrypted phone. "You were right about him. Is your offer still on the table?"

*Daily updates*She felt as if she were floating. Her eyes were closed, and everything about her felt soft, a luxuriating fluffiness like the satin down comforter her grandma used to have. She thought she must have been sleeping. There was a not-unpleasant heaviness to her limbs, like the time she could finally sit down after standing and walking in the market for hours.Then her brain started to focus in a peculiar sort of way, powerless over thoughts that surfaced unbidden. Abubakar suddenly came to mind...how he had gotten her this way, and how she longed to tell Maama, but couldn't. Maama. . .As her consciousness began to return, she tried without success to open her eyes. Something tight and sticky was holding her lids together. Now she knew she was sleeping. She'd felt that strange paralysis before when wrapped in layers of her dreams, her legs turned to lead as she ran from shadowy pursuers and her eyes became inert shutters. She was scared, what frightened her most was her breathing. Her hand blindly went to her mouth, where she found the tube.Yaa Rahman! She was in a hospital!Her heart was thunderously racing, filling her chest with explosive fear. She blindly pulled at the tube, ripping it from her throat, gagging violently as it made her gasp and choke. But finally, finally, It was free, and she flung it far away.

She was his unknown damnation. He was just another to add to her death row. ``` 25 year old Alina Diaz, detective Lina by day, and a ruthless assassin by night. When past trauma of losing both her father and brother in one night leads her to a life of violence, weapons, fists and blood. From affluence to gang life, Alina loses all trace of fragility in her. When she’s given a new mission: “Infiltrate the Mexican Mafia estate and assassinate Antonio Alvarez”, Lina dives headfirst into a messy, tangled web of dangerous temptation, uncovered secrets and new discoveries. 33 year old Antonio Alvarez, a powerful don haunted by control, loyalty, and the slow realization that love is the one thing he can’t command, sharpened by the cruel reality of his world, is seen as a heartless beast just like his father and he makes no attempt to clear up the misconception. Cold, unwavering and devilishly handsome. He can snap a neck in mere seconds, and hold children delicately with those same hands. When the line between loyalty and burning passion blurs, when wrenching secrets are uncovered, will love really heal open wounds, or will it add fuel to the engulfing flames? WARNING!! BOOK CONTAINS: Language| Sexual activities| Substance| Violence If you love Action, drama and romance packed into one, then you’ve found the book for you. Please, like, share, comment and don’t forget to add to library to keep up with daily updates!

I quickly rushed ahead and saw her lying near the edge where the huge cut tree had fallen a few days ago. Half of her body was resting in water while the other half was resting on the side of the tree. "No," I whispered as I ran ahead, instantly jumping into the river and grabbing her body, pulling it into my arms. I was sniffling and trying to hold back my tears while I swam back to land. Once she was placed on the ground, I looked at her helplessly, tears running down my cheeks. My body was trembling, and my wolf was whimpering loudly. I felt nauseous, and my head was throbbing badly. "She's fine," I said to myself in a cracked voice as I raised my hand and placed it on her chest. "Alpha!" Harvey called when he reached where I was. I looked at him with blurry vision, then back at my mate. "Why?" I whispered in a cracked voice. "Why can't I feel her heartbeat, Harvey?" I asked with a heavy heart, then moved my hand to my chest as I felt like I was suffocating.

On Christmas, the company handed out bonus envelopes, and I drew a 24-hour overtime voucher. Meanwhile, the boss took the female workers and my wife to a yacht party to celebrate. So, I calmly lit the Christmas tree and burned the company down. In my previous life, I worked overtime until I was completely exhausted. With a sharp pain in my chest, I called the boss to ask for leave. His tone was cold. “Everyone accepted their Christmas gift. Only you didn’t. “Get lost, then. You’re fired. Just a nobody at the bottom of society, anyway!” Through the phone, I heard my wife’s heavy breathing, one wave after another. “Thomas, ever since I got married, I’ve never had a good life. Today is truly amazing!” “Hahaha, Samantha, you’re really pitiful, married to such a poor loser.” Mocking laughter filled my ears. Rage consumed me, and I died at my desk. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on Christmas Day.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I found another woman’s lace thong in my bedroom. My husband, Mark Donovan, stood in front of the closet and said coldly, “She’s just a kid, Leslie. Don’t make this ugly.” That “kid” was pregnant with his child. That “kid” had already moved into my home, worn his shirts, slept in my bed, and made him cut down the magnolia tree my dead parents planted for me. Everyone in the Donovan family thought I would scream, cry, and beg. After all, I had loved Mark for nine years. But this time, I only picked up my suitcase. Because they didn’t know one thing. The divorce had already been filed. The Donovan wife’s emerald brooch had already been returned. And the evidence against his precious little mistress had already been delivered to the old Don. Mark thought I was walking out of his mansion. He didn’t know I was walking out of his life. Forever.