The Blood on His Hands

lla

-laundering fronts were stabilized. The Syndicate's pro

y morning and every night. I

he stood in my kitchen cooking dinner as if he belonged there, I locked myself in my bedroom. I did not eat a

ted the boundary without a fight, playing

one started vibrating ag

ile messages, friend requests from burner account

apps, and a cold sickne

e wildfire across high-society pages

ing out of my apartment buil

us goomah trying to usurp a Mafi

he comments. There w

ced a mar

p on purpose to fo

n? Bought with Serena's fam

es her. A bullet to the sto

They were not just targeting me. Someone had doxxed the physical addresses of my fathe

to the bathroom, where I threw

refused to stay still, I stared a

ne this. He wanted

was leveraging her status as a Mafia Princess to brand m

the living room and

crolled past the recent darkness, reac

s, anniversaries, our trip to the coast i

t years. We were together lon

g hands, and celebrating holidays with my parents. Every singl

e rule of Omertà, I op

d the nin

on: "Who is the real inter

onto the couch, I walked into the

een the next morning,

up Serena's post from earlier that week, flaunting her mafia we

pised a liar. The public judgment t

ntruder was trending acros

ang. It wa

orry I ever doubte

okay

morning. Huge bouquets of white roses. Your father says it's a sign of resp

single tear making a co

the batt

as already choosing the knife. The only que