I just want to take a moment to appreciate each and every one of you. It’s your kind words and encouragement that push me to keep writing more and more, and for that, I’m so incredibly grateful. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart! I love you guys so much. I hope you enjoy the chapter! XOXO 💋
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I'd never felt the urge to stomp someone so hard I’d leave an imprint, but this bitch? She was testing my patience like no one else ever had. There were a lot of things I could handle, but watching her perfectly manicured hand reach out, to touch Alessandro’s tux? Yeah, that wasn’t one of them. Her smile was all sweetness and sugar, but I could see right through it—she wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all me. She leaned in, eyes lingering on him in a way that made my blood simmer, fingers brushing his lapel. “Can we talk for a moment... alone?” she asked, voice dripping with a little too much familiarity as she toyed with his collar. A heat rose up in me, a possessiveness I’d only felt for Fliss but somehow ten times more potent. In the span of a second, my mind was made up. I didn’t think, I just acted. My hand shot out, and I slapped her hand away from him—not a gentle brush-off either, but a smack that echoed in the space around us. Francesca jerked her hand b
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ From the corner of my eye, I watched Viviane—laughing, head thrown back, that carefree sound spilling out of her like it belonged in a different world than mine. What really got me was that even Bianca was laughing along with the rest of them. Bianca, who I expected to pull her usual crap, throw a snide remark, stir up trouble, or worse, drop some comment meant to chip away at me in front of Viviane but none of it happened. She was smiling like she wasn’t the viper I knew her to be. And it twisted something dark in me, this realization that Viviane fit here more easily than I wanted her to. I hated it—seeing her at ease with people, people who shouldn’t get to know her, who shouldn’t get to see her this relaxed. That laughter, those little smiles... They weren’t for them. They shouldn’t be. I realized it in that moment: Viviane wasn’t someone I could just share. Not here, not with them, maybe not with anyone. She’s mine. And the thought of anyone
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I stormed out of that suffocating mansion, cursing under my breath, every step harder and faster than the last. The the weight of all their judgment and bullshit pressing down until I could barely breathe. I had to get out. Alessandro was right behind me, his hand in mine. He didn’t say a word, didn’t try to stop me. For once, he just followed, letting me lead the way without a fight. The second we stepped outside into the biting cold night air, I dropped his hand and sucked in a breath, but it wasn’t enough to calm me down. Not even close. I clenched my fists, trying to force myself to breathe. Inhale. Exhale. Come on, Viviane. Inhale and fucking exhale. My pulse was racing, my blood boiling from the crap I’d just dealt with in there. Those self-righteous assholes. Acting like I was the one out of line. Like they haven’t let Bianca run wild for years, making excuses for her tantrums because Daddy broke her precious heart. I let out a bitter laugh, my bre
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ “It’s been six months,” Elijah Bolton’s voice echoed, as one of the Capos, he’d been in this business long enough to recognize a lost cause. “Six months, and we’ve found nothing. Whoever planned this was ten steps ahead, covered every angle. No trails, no witnesses, nothing. Face it—we may never see Vito again.” Luciano Costello, father of Nikolai and former head of the family, clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, and then slammed one down on the table with a crack that echoed around the room. “That’s my brother you’re talking about, dammit!” he thundered, anyone could hear the fury and grief that bordered on desperation in his voice, “I can’t—no, I won’t accept that. I’ll burn through every last cent I’ve got if that’s what it takes. Dead or alive, he’s a Costello, and he deserves a proper funeral, not to be some ghost everyone’s forgotten.” The men shifted uneasily, their eyes casting wary glances at each other, knowing that Luciano’s anger cou
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ The rest of the night went on without much drama... At first, Alessandro stuck to my side, but now, as the hours dragged on, the dynamic shifted. Somewhere between the stolen glances and the meaningless conversations, I found myself clinging to him instead. Protective of him. And that feeling... that wasn’t like me. That wasn't like me at all. We were steps away from leaving when Evangeline’s voice stopped us. “Wait, Viviane, can we talk,” she approached us, her gaze darting nervously between me and Alessandro. Alessandro leaned closer to me and whispered, “I'm waiting for you outside.” I nodded at him, and turned back to Evangeline, “Tonight didn’t go as planned,” she let out a laugh, "I’m sorry—for everything that happened. You were right about her. I’ve tried to stop Bianca before, so many times, even in the past, Viviane, but she doesn’t listen to anyone—not even me. And Nikolai treats her like his little sister. I’ve never seen him raise his voice at
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ “I need you to trust me too, Alessandro. Who is Sofia?” I whispered. His body tensed slightly under mine, the shift was so subtle but I noticed it. I could feel him about to pull back—not physically, but in that guarded way he always does. His eyes flicked to the side, avoiding mine. Oh no, not this time. I grabbed his face gently forcing him to look at me. “Tell me about the burns on your chest,” I pressed, “When did it start? How did it start? Who is she?” I could feel the anger bubbling up inside me. The burns. Every time I thought about them, it sent a wave of disgust crashing over me. And no one had protected him. No one had stopped it. Not even him. He took my hand off his face, “I want you to promise me something first,” he said, “If I tell you, you won’t tell anyone. You won’t act on it. And you sure as fuck won’t go after her for revenge or any of that. Whatever I tell you stays between us. Do you understand me, Freckles?” My stomach twisted at hi
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ Love... It's a foreign concept for me. What even is love? Honestly, I’ve never figured it out. Not the romantic kind, at least. The only kind I’ve ever known is what I feel for Felicity, Stella, and Brandon. That fierce, protective bond you share with the people who share your blood—the people you’d burn the world down for. But what I felt for him wasn’t like family—it wasn’t safe or comfortable. It was all-consuming. The kind of thing that worms its way into your veins and refuses to leave. Being close to him wasn’t a choice. It was magnetic, inevitable, like I was pulled into his orbit and couldn’t fight my way out even if I’d tried. Every time I thought I’d find a moment to breathe, he was there, invading my thoughts. In the shower, I’d catch myself thinking about the way his hand slid down the curve of my body. Eating breakfast, I’d remember the way his lips curled into that sly smile that made me want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. Even pick
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ I watched Viviane pace the room, arms folded across her chest, the slight furrow in her brow that said she was already two steps ahead, calculating every angle. Smart. Prepared. Just what I needed at my side. I have never admitted it out loud, but her mind was something else entirely. It drew me in more than anything else. It wasn’t just the way she picked up on everything I said, it was how she pieced things together, how she challenged me without even trying. Every conversation with her felt like a match I didn’t mind losing. Her intelligence was a turn-on. I was proud of her in a way I didn’t even know I could feel, like having her by my side made me sharper, better, more alive. She paused by the window, the sunlight hitting directly into her hazel eyes and setting them aglow, turning them a shade lighter, like molten gold melting into green. "Our decoys are in place, right?" she asked, her voice holding an edge of excitement. I leaned back, f
And just like that, we’ve reached the end. I can’t begin to express what this journey has meant to me. Nearly three years ago, I started writing this series, pouring my heart into every page, every twist, every broken character working their way toward redemption. What started as a single story turned into a world of love, betrayal, sacrifice. A world that, for so long, felt just as real to me as the one outside my screen. This series has been my constant companion, my late-night obsession, my endless battle between frustration and joy. I’ve spent years with these characters, watching them evolve, break, heal, and fight for the love and survival they never thought they deserved. Letting them go feels like saying goodbye to a piece of myself. To those of you who have been here since the beginning—to those who joined somewhere along the way—thank you. Your comments, your excitement, your passion for these characters kept me going when the words refused to come. Every time
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ I had never been a big emotional crier. Not when I got shot. Not when I faced down criminals twice my size. Not even when I was in labor with both of my children. But watching Felicity walk across that stage in her cap and gown? Yeah. I was losing it. Sixteen years old. Valedictorian. Just like me. I squeezed Alessandro’s hand, trying to keep my emotions in check as she reached the podium. She looked so grown up, standing there, her red hair shining under the stadium lights, her eyes scanning the massive crowd like she still couldn’t believe this was happening. I still couldn’t believe it was happening. I remembered the tiny girl who used to curl up next to me in a hospital bed, hooked up to dialysis, her body too small for the battles she had to fight. I remembered the way she clung to me after Stella died, the way she had once been so fragile and now? Now, she stood before thousands, confident, brilliant, with the whole world waiting for her.
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ FOUR YEARS LATER •───⋅────⋅───• The pregnancy test lay on the counter. I stared at it. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting… Until— Two bright pink lines. My pulse slammed into my throat. My fingers trembled as I snatched the second test, my breath stalling in my chest. Bold, capital letters burned into my vision. Pregnant. I swallowed, my mouth dry as I reached for the third one, hoping, praying, begging for a different result. Pregnant. A hollow, gasping breath left me as I staggered backward. My legs barely held me up before I sank to the cold tile floor, pressing my knees to my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. My heart pounded so hard it hurt. My body was a time bomb, the life inside me a ticking fuse. I had read the statistics, spoken to the doctors, heard the warnings whispered like a death sentence. Fifty-fifty. A chance to survive. A chance to die. And the baby, God, the baby. My mi
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ The mirror reflected back a man I barely recognized. I was dressed in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, the white of my shirt against the deep charcoal vest, I looked every bit the groom. My cufflinks were made of gold, engraved with my family’s crest. The tie was perfectly knotted, not a single wrinkle in sight. So why the fuck did my pulse feel like a war drum in my chest? “She’s not running, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Nikolai drawled from the couch, glass of whiskey in hand. He looked as put together as ever, but there was amusement in his eyes. “The only person who might run is you.” I shot him a dry look, fastening the last button of my jacket. “I’d rather be shot between the eyes.” Nikolai smirked, “That could be arranged.” I exhaled sharply, running a hand over my jaw. “You ready?” I asked him. He lifted his glass in a silent toast. “To your last few minutes as a free man.” I rolled my eyes heavenwards, adjusting my cuff. “Let’s g
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ The second we stepped inside, Alessandro had me against the wall, his body pressing into mine like he couldn’t stand the space between us. I moaned into his mouth, clawing at his jacket, shoving it off his shoulders. My fingers worked fast, unbuttoning his shirt, feeling the hard ridges of muscle beneath as I slid my hands down his chest, nails raking lightly over his skin before pausing over the bandages where he’d been shot. The wound was nearly healed, but I still handled it with care. My fingers trembled there, hesitation flickering through me for the briefest moment. His hands tore my shirt over my head, his fingers finding the clasp of my bra, snapping it open with a single flick. It slid off, leaving me bare. His mouth never left mine, but his hands moved lower, unbuttoning my jeans, pushing them down my hips. I arched into him, needy, aching, tugging at his belt, pulling it free, hands sliding under the waistband of his pants. He grabbed my wrists, slammi
Viviane ☩═✦═☩ The waiting room felt like a prison. The sharp scent of antiseptic burned my nose, and the cold, sterile lighting overhead made everything feel like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. My fingers were clenched so tightly around the arms of the chair that my nails dug into my palms. My entire body was trembling, my lungs struggling to pull in air past the lump in my throat. Brandon sat beside me, his hand on my shoulder. On my other side, Felicity clung to my arm, her small fingers digging in. Across from us, Alessandro’s family filled the space. Nikolai stood with his arms crossed, his jaw locked so tight I swore I could hear his teeth grinding. Scott was pacing, his usual cheerfulness was gone, replaced by a dark look. Lorenzo sat with his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together, staring at the floor. Marco leaned against the wall, his head tipped back, eyes closed, but I could see the muscle ticking in his jaw. Bianca was holding onto Stefano, her entir
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ Francesca. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. She shouldn’t be here. No one had seen or heard from her in months. The last thing I knew, Nikolai had taken everything from her. Every cent, every luxury, every privilege that came with the Costello name. He had stripped her down to nothing and cast her out. No security, no connections, no power. She was gone. Or at least, she was supposed to be. Her gaze locked onto mine, and with a slow, movement of her fingers beckoned me forward. Her eyes darted around, scanning the room, before she turned sharply on her heels, heading toward the back doors that led into the gardens. She wanted me to follow. For a split second, I considered ignoring her entirely, letting the past rot where it belonged. But then Viviane. Because if I didn’t handle this? She would. And despite every instinct screaming at me to leave her to it. I moved. The moment I stepped through the doors, it wasn’t the night I felt, it
Alessandro ☩══♛══☩ The whiskey in my glass barely moved as I leaned against the bar, listening to the low murmur of conversation around me. The party was in full swing, music humming through the space as we talked. Tonight, however, the topic of discussion was different. “We let them have their fun,” Nikolai said simply. Scott raised an eyebrow. “Fun? Fun?” He let out a laugh, “Niko, they’re not starting a book club. They’re going after human traffickers. You know, murdery people. Like us. Except worse, because they don’t have the rules we do.” Stefano sighed, “They’re going to do it whether we like it or not.” “Exactly,” I murmured, rolling my glass between my fingers. “Which is why we control it.” Marco frowned, “They won’t let us.” I smirked, “They won’t know.” That got their attention. Lorenzo narrowed his eyes. “Explain.” I took a slow sip of my whiskey before setting the glass down. “Their company is already operational. Websites, bank accounts, safe houses
Lilianna »»»◈««« I had precisely one shot at this. If I told Marco under normal circumstances, he’d shut it down immediately. If I waited, he’d find out anyway—because he’s Marco. He’d outmaneuver me, corner me, and by the time I realized what he was doing, it would already be over. So I had to be strategic. Which is exactly why I waited until he was inside me. It wasn’t playing fair but I wasn’t playing. Marco had me on my hands and knees, my spine arched. His grip on my hips held me in place. One of his hands left my hip, sliding up the curve of my back, pressing between my shoulder blades, pushing me deeper into the mattress. I pressed my cheek against the mattress and whispered, "I started my own company." His movements slowed, uncertain like he wasn't sure he heard me right. I pressed my face harder into the mattress, "A rescue organization. Human trafficking, organ trafficking—" I rambled on and on. Marco’s fingers tightened bruisingly on my hips. And then he