Chapter 168Fueled by rage, Alberto charged at Enzo who dodged and weaved, avoiding his blows. He landed a series of punches, but Enzo absorbed them, countering with a vicious kick that sent him crashing into a pillar."Oh, come on, is that all you've got?" Enzo asked, approaching him with his fists clenched. "You claim you are more powerful. Fucking show me what you've got. Show your fucking audience what you've got!"Alberto turned to face the audience Enzo referred toβhis three new supporters who watched the fight in terror. In a fit of rage, he clenched his fist to strike, but Enzo blocked it, grasping his hand in an iron grip. With a swift twist, Enzo wrenched his wrist backward, exploiting the wound that was still tender from the previous cut he had given to himβa slit on his wrist.Alberto's eyes widened in agony as he felt the flesh around the cut stretch and tear. Blood gushed out, soaking the bandage and staining the surrounding area of his skin. As his grip intensified, wors
The sun beat down on the deserted landscape as the traitors' bodies hung, stretched out, and suspended in a gruesome display on wooden crosses planted in the dry earth. After being nailed inside the warehouse, they had been brought out so everyone could see.The air was heavy with the stench of death, decay, sweat, and fear. Flies buzzed around the wounds, feasting on the festering flesh. Their once-human forms were now twisted and broken, their bodies mingling with dried blood sagging on the cross in a helpless pose. Three of the men were dead while the remaining five silently prayed for death to escape the pain and suffering. The only sounds were the labored gasps and whispers of despair.One man's eyes rolled back, his head lolling to the side, while another's gaze fixed on some distant point, his spirit long gone from his body. A third man's body convulsed, his muscles straining against the nails. A crowd gathered below, their expressions frozen in terror. The crowd's silence was
YEARS AGOβ’β’β’The sleek, unmistakable lines of a black McLaren, its tires purring with power pulled up in front of the grandest estate in the city. The house was owned by Carlotta, the midwife who had nurtured Alberto's early years. It was a symbol of gratitude, a gift from Alberto. Despite being surrounded by staff and security, Carlotta often complained about the emptiness in the house. Alberto had moved to his own house long ago, but visited regularly, ensuring her company four times in a month. This was one of such occasions.As the car came to a stop, Alberto emerged, his tall and imposing frame unfolding from the driver's seat. Inky dark hair. Piercing eyes. Strong jawline. A face so exquisitely chiseled, it only belonged to one person, Alberto.His muscles rippled beneath the fabric of his neatly tailored, charcoal-gray suit, accentuating his broad shoulders and chiseled physique. A crisp white shirt, adorned with a slim silver tie, added a touch of elegance. As he strode towa
π΄π’ππ’π π‘ 18π‘β, 1977πΌ πππ’ππ π‘βππ ππππππππ ππππ’ππ βππ ππππ πππ βππ£π πππππππ π‘π βπππ πππ‘π ππ‘ πππ π΄πππππ‘π, ππ πππ π βπ ππ£ππ ππππ’πππππ ππππ’π‘ βππ ππππππ‘π . πβπ ππππππ‘ π ππππ π‘π βππ£π βπππ π πππππ‘ π£πππ’π π‘π π‘βπ πππ‘π π·ππππ ππ ππ‘ βππππ π ππππ‘π’ππ ππ βππ πππ π‘βπ πππππ πΏπππ. πΌπ‘ ππ π‘βπ ππππ¦ πππππππ‘πππ πΌ βππ£π π‘π π‘βππ. β―β―Alberto continued to translate the diary, his eyes scanning the pages until he reached the next entry about himself. He had skipped over the passages detailing her personal struggles and the fray in her romantic relationships, eager to learn more about his own history and the secrets she had kept from him. β―β― π΄π’ππ’π π‘ 25, 1977πππππ¦, πΌ ππππ π‘βπ πππππ?
π΄ππππ 6π‘β, 1982πππππ¦, π΄πππππ‘π ππ πππ ππππ’π‘ βππ ππππππ‘π ππππ πππππ πππ ππ‘ πππππππ ππ¦ βππππ‘ π‘βππ‘ πΌ βππ π‘π ππππ‘πππ’π π€ππ‘β π‘βπ ππππ . πΌ π‘πππ βππ π‘βππ¦ πππ‘β ππππ ππ π π‘πππππ πππ ππππππππ‘ πππ π€ππ π π’πππππ ππ π€βππ βπ ππππ πππ π‘βπ πππππππ‘ ππππππππ‘πππ¦. π»π π‘βππ ππ πππ ππππ’π‘ π‘βπππ ππ’ππππ π ππ‘π π€βππβ βππ ππ π πππππππππ πππ π πππ ππππ π. πΌ ππππππππ‘ππ π π π‘πππ¦ ππππ’π‘ π‘βπππ ππππππ πππ£ππ πππππ πππ’ππ, πππππππ ππ’πππ‘π¦ π€ππ‘β πππβ ππππ π π€πππ.πππ€, πΌ π€ππ‘πβ ππ βπ π ππ‘π πππππ ππ π‘βπ πππ£πππππ‘, π π’πππππ π€βπππ ππ‘βππ πβππππππ ππππ¦ ππππππ¦. π»π πππππ π ππ πππ ππππππ πππ πΌ ππππ ππ’πππ‘π¦ πππ ππππππ£πππ βππ.πβπ βπππ β π‘ππ’?
Carlotta wiped her tears, her expression filled with sadness. "She wanted nothing, but for you to be safe and protected. She was dying and knew she wouldn't be there to shield you from the world you were born into. She wanted you to live a peaceful life, free from the dangers and secrets that came with your family name.""But my father, the Mafia Lord..."She walked closer to him. "She didn't trust he would protect you enough""I'm his heir...""Your father already had a son with his Mistress and was grooming him to take over. Your mother feared the deadly power struggle that would ensue, and didn't want you to be dragged into it." Carlotta gripped his arm, her eyes pleading. "Do not engage with them, I beg of you. Do not let your mother's dying wish and all my efforts to protect you be for nothing. You've built a peaceful and successful life here, you do not need to go back there. Do not risk all you've worked so hard for, everything you've accomplished. Most of all, do not risk your
"Your father is waiting in his study" Rosana looked down at the luggage she was holding and sighed. She couldn't help wondering why her father urgently needed her in his study. What could be so important? She wasn't even allowed to drop her bags before her mother conveyed the message. "Is anything the problem, MammΓ ?" "No, absolutely not," Aria responded with a faux smile. She looked worried and anxious and Rosana could tell because she kept rubbing her hands. She gave her mother a suspicious look and turned to look around. Surely, this was not the atmosphere she expected to meet after being away for the past three years. "I will drop my bags first and then I will meet him in the study" Aria smiled and returned to the kitchen while Rosana headed up the stairs. Once inside her room, she smiled and dropped her bags on the neatly dressed bed. The room was clean which meant that Aria had taken care of it in preparation for her homecoming. Rosana looked at the ring on her middle fing
"Ro, la facciamo?" Sergio asked and held out his right hand. He was now standing beside her, facing her. He was cut an imposing figure, his tall frame encased in a black suit that spelled splendor. The fabric clung to his well-muscled chest, and the first three buttons were left undone, revealing intricate tattoos that snaked up his chest. The sight made her edgy but she couldn't look away. He wasn't even wearing a tie. Why her? She kept asking herself. How could her father do this to her? How could he force her to marry someone she didn't even love? Someone that looked deadly? Someone that spelled terror? She had always wanted to marry Allen and none other. But standing before the congregation, dressed in a white wedding gown and standing beside a man who was not Allen broke her frantic heart. Her eyes twitched, threatening to spill tears but she clicked her tongue with her teeth and tried to stop it. Her trick worked. Even if she cried in front of everyone, it wouldn't change a