When The Don's Pride Crumbled At My Feet นิยาย & เรื่องราว

Vincenzo Valentino, Rico’s grandfather, the former Don of the family, was sitting in the estate’s outdoor shooting range, grinning when he saw me. We’d met at a shooting club in Brooklyn. The old man was stubborn as hell, and with his reputation, no one dared so much as breathe wrong around him. Back then, I was just doing my part-time job at the club. The other staff, knowing I was an orphan with no family, no connections, always stuck me with serving him. Somehow, over time, we’d become friends. I had no clue he was the top Don of New York’s underworld. Until the day Rico showed up with an army of bodyguards to take Vincenzo here. That was the first time I’d ever seen him. I was hooked the

The lieutenants stripped off their jackets and shirts while the Don sat in a big leather chair in the corner like he was about to watch a show. “On the bed,” he ordered. “On your back. Legs wide open. Show my men the cunt I just bought.” I climbed onto the bed, heart racing so fast I thought it might explode. I lay back on the cool silk and slowly pulled my knees up and apart until my shaved pussy was completely exposed to all of them. I was so wet it was embarrassing — shiny strings of arousal stretched between my lips. The Don nodded. “Good girl. Now beg.” I swallowed hard, face burning. “Please… fuck me.”

Farrow's hand, shaking, reached out and gently took her clenched left hand. His fingertips brushed over the scar on the palm, twisted and raised like a centipede. Once. Twice. Until he was sure the rough texture was just as he remembered. "Aaargh!" A raw, agonized roar tore from his throat. "How could it be you... How can it be you?" Tears, hot and heavy, splashed onto my ruined corpse. The once-invincible Don of New York was now crying like a lost child. He buried his face in my stiff, cold palm, his tears mingling with the dried blood.

Why are my feelings flashing like neon lights? Still my shoulder slumps in relief. At least someone isn’t unreasonable putting a blame on me. I’m still mulling this over when one of Nero’s men bursts into the dining room. “The Don is back.”

“Do you remember what her tears looked like?” Both went deathly pale. Sofia stammered, “We—we didn’t know she was yours—we swear—” “Exactly,” I said, stepping close enough they smelled the violence on me. “You didn’t know. And you still won’t walk out of here whole.” They screamed apologies, promises, prayers—pathetic, overlapping, useless. I let them drown in it. The side door opened with a soft hiss. Bare feet on concrete. I turned.

"I'll give you all of the Marlowe family's territory! Call it my apology. I'm begging you, come back to me!" "If you won't, I'd rather die right here!" His face was soaked in tears of regret, and the words he screamed carried the taste of blood. "You've become a laughingstock," I said. "Your seat as Don was already hanging by a thread." I spread my hands. "And here you are, wasting your time, begging me. The other Dons are ruthless wolves. Do you really think you can hold your territory?" "I can't speak for the rest." I fired my last shot. "But I'd bet my life that right now, my father is swallowing your territory whole."

In the face of my concern, of the late-night meals I prepared for him, he always wore that same high-and-mighty coldness. "Stay out of mob business. Are you ever going to stop nagging about this useless crap?" "Can't you understand your position and give me the absolute respect a Don deserves?" "If I hadn't fought for this empire with a gun in my hand, do you think you'd be wearing that custom-made gown right now?" The poor kid I supported, the punk who got his start only because my mother sold everything she owned, the man who swore before the Madonna to protect me for life, had thrown it all away the moment he sat on the Don's throne.

People change—especially when their hearts get crushed. "If you apologize to Sofia and admit you were wrong, the wedding goes on as planned." He said it slowly, like he knew he was pushing it. I froze, then smiled sweetly. "Alright. I'll apologize. I won't upset either of you again." Adriano nodded, satisfied—but something flickered behind his eyes. He could tell something was off. He just didn't know what. Right then, one of his capos—Paolo—pushed in. "Don, your madre's here."

Fury twisted Dante's features as he pinned those men who had harassed Nina to the ground, punching them again and again until they had no strength to fight back. Screams echoed throughout the auction hall, and everything was in complete chaos. "We're sorry, Don Pierce! We won't dare do it again! Please have mercy on us!" The men knelt on the ground begging for forgiveness, blood streaming down their faces. Dante looked at them coldly. "Get out of here! If you ever dare appear in front of her again, I'll destroy you!"