Jilted Pet Becomes The Mafia Queen

he fire that killed my family. For ten years, th

gement to another woman to

amed her the future mistr

forced a cheap metal collar arou

e just watched, his eyes col

through the walls as

d made me as a child was a lie. I wa

tion, my love for him

lebrated his new future, I walked

g to take me to my real

pte

phin

day Dante Moretti announced h

et confession in the dead of night. It was a headline, stark and black on the screen

t Powerful Family, to Wed Isabella Ve

of it a sudden, shocking anchor in a sea of disbelief. This had to be a mist

Dante

ly, was being torn apart, and I was just a piece of collateral damage left behind. Then he appeared through the flames, a boy of sixteen with eyes a

, his voice rough but steady. "Y

was my god. He was the one who bought me a nightlight when I was ten because the nightmares wouldn't stop, a small ceramic c

at. The world knew that. But he was my m

d do. I wrote him a letter. A confession, poured out in clumsy, heartfelt sentences, s

udy. He cornered me in the library that night, his body caging me against a shelf of

his voice a low, dangerous growl. "You lov

ve him. It felt like a test. Ano

iling beside him, her hand possessively on his

they walked in. Isabella was everything I wasn't-tall, poised, with the kind of shar

re was no warmth, no apology

ernous foyer. "This is Isabella. You will refer to

blow. Mistress. The titl

pleasure to finally meet the little can

was a Rossi by blood, a Moretti by charity. A stray dog he'd picked up from the

ir, a sheet of pale gold, fell to my waist. Dante had always loved

d for cutting flower stems in the garden, and held

n

cold tile floor

Snip

hacked off in uneven, jagged chunks a

cket in my jacket, I pulled out a cigarette, stolen from one of the guards. My hands trembled as I

his. I was nothing. And when you have

and made a promise to the unforgiving New York