Finally, things are right again. Selena is home where she belongs. I am finally able to see how she is growing with my child in her belly. "Selena," I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion as I held her tightly. Her eyes searched my own, looking for something. Assurance maybe. "I killed him," I said, my voice low. "Torres is gone. He can never hurt you again." The words hung in the air, and for a moment, Selena just stared at me, her eyes wide. Then, she collapsed into my arms, her body shaking with sobs. I held her tight, feeling her warmth, her heartbeat, and the life growing inside her. The baby we had made together, the one that had kept me going through all this. We stood there, not moving, just breathing, feeling each other's presence. The smell of gunpowder still clung to my clothes. But for now, all that mattered was Selena and the baby. "He told me that you were dead. I didn't want to go on without you." Her voice was muffled against my chest, but the pain in her wor
But tomorrow came too soon, and with it, Selena's nightmares. They plagued her sleep, leaving her screaming and thrashing in the night. Each time she woke up, I held her tightly, whispering reassurances into her ear, feeling her body tremble with fear and pain. The house was silent except for the occasional hushed sobs that Selena couldn't hold back. I knew she was trying to be strong for me, for us, but the weight of her ordeal was too much to bear alone. Her nightmares were a constant reminder of what she had suffered, a dark stain on the fabric of our happiness. Both Marta and I are very concerned as to how this is affecting the pregnancy. Selena is only a couple of months away from delivery. "We need to get you some help," I said to Selena one morning as she sat at the breakfast table, her eyes dark from another restless night. "You can't keep going like this." Her hand tightened around the mug of tea. "I'm okay," she said, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. "You'
I found Antonio in his office, his eyes weary from the constant vigilance that came with being my right-hand man. "We need to talk," I said, my voice low and urgent. He looked up from the documents scattered on his desk, the concern in his gaze immediately evident. "What's going on, boss?" "What have you found out about Salvatore? Is he still in Sicily?" Antonio nodded. "Yes, boss. He's laying low, but he's definitely there. We've had eyes on him since he left." "Good," I said, my hand clenching into a fist. "Let him stay there. I don't want any trouble before Selena gives birth. After that, we deal with him. But I want to make sure he doesn't leave Sicily alive." Antonio nodded solemnly. "Understood, boss. We'll keep tabs on him. In the meantime, we've been strengthening our alliances with the other Families, ensuring everyone knows we stand united against any retribution from Torres's men." "And the ports?" I asked, my mind racing with the strategic implications. "Has th
When night fell, i approached Selena's bedroom door. My heart is heavy with worry. Joseph knows Selena needed someone to confide in, someone who could understand her pain without judgment. Hopefully I can help her, I have come to love her like a daughter. I didn't want to startle her, so I knocked gently, and Selena's muffled voice told me to come in. The room was dimly lit, with Selena lying in bed, her eyes red from crying. "How are you feeling?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Selena's eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I saw the depth of her pain. She took a deep breath, her hand resting protectively on her swollen belly. "I'm okay," she lied, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to pretend with me, Selena," I said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. "You know I'm here for you." Selena looked up at me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I'm just so tired, Marta," she said, her voice cracking. "I can't keep pretending everything's okay."
I am glad that Marta was able to get Selena to open up to her. I wanted to press her for more details of what happened, but I wouldn't force her to break the trust she has built with Selena. The following days were a blur of preparations for the baby's arrival. The nursery was painted a soft yellow, a color Selena had always liked. We bought a crib, toys, and clothes, filling the room with the hope and joy that was missing from the rest of our lives. Selena's therapy sessions began, and although she was hesitant at first, she grew more comfortable with each passing week, slowly learning to trust the process and the therapist. I watched her closely, noticing the subtle changes in her demeanor. The nightmares lessened, and she began to smile more often, though it never quite reached her eyes. Still, it was progress, and I clung to it like a lifeline. One evening, after a particularly grueling session with the therapist, Selena emerged from the room looking more exhausted than ever
One evening, Selena turned to me, her eyes filled with a tentative hope. "Can we... try?" she asked, her voice quivering. I nodded, understanding what she meant. We had come so far, and I was ready to take that next step with her. "Of course," I whispered, my heart racing. "We'll go at your pace." Selena took a deep breath and leaned into me, her body fitting against mine like a piece of a puzzle. We kissed softly; the intimacy is what we both need. Her touch was tentative at first, as if she was afraid, she would shatter if she pressed too hard. I matched her gentleness, my hand moving slowly along her side, feeling her warmth and the life growing within her. The room was silent except for the sound of our breaths, mingling together in the stillness. Each caress was a declaration of love and a promise of healing. Selena's hands began to explore, moving up my chest and around my neck, pulling me closer. Our kisses grew more urgent, our bodies responding to the familiar rhythm
Every day while Joseph has been working, Marta and I have been working on the nursery. I am only one week away from my due date and the baby has to have somewhere to sleep. I had decided to have a home birth. Joseph wasn't fond of the idea, but he agreed. I was worried if we would make it to the hospital since we were an hour drive away. The nursery was painted a soft yellow, and the crib was made of the finest wood. The furniture was all handcrafted, and I had picked out the most comfortable rocking chair to nurse our baby in. The walls were adorned with tiny white clouds and a mural of the night sky painted above the crib. The door creaked open, and Joseph poked his head in, a tired smile playing on his lips. "How's it going in here?" I looked up from my task of folding tiny baby clothes, feeling a warmth spread through my chest at the sight of him. "Almost done," I said with a sigh of relief. "I just need to get these clothes put away." "You're doing amazing," he said,
I rushed over, taking in the sight of the wet spot on the floor, the clear liquid pooling around her feet. "It's okay," I assured her, trying to keep my voice steady. "We've got this. Let's get you cleaned up and comfortable." I helped Selena to the shower, her legs trembling slightly as she stepped in. She hissed as the warm water hit her, the sensation sending a fresh wave of contractions through her body. "Breathe, baby," I instructed, my own heart racing with the realization that our baby was coming now. The water cascaded down her curves, her swollen belly glistening under the soft light. She leaned against the wall, her eyes closed as she focused on the rhythmic spasms that were growing more intense by the minute. I washed her gently, my hands moving over her slick skin with a mix of urgency and care. Thankfully the nursery was finished. I had made arrangements for the midwife to come over, and the doctor was on standby, ready to jump in if needed. Selena had been ad
"Now we prepare," Joseph murmured against my hair. "We'll get through this, Selena. For the twins, for us." He led me upstairs, the urgency of his steps mirroring the racing of my heart. The bedroom was our sanctuary, a place where we had shared so much love and passion. Now, it was about more than just pleasure; it was about life and connection. We needed to feel each other, to be one, before the storm of our world crashed down on us. With trembling hands, Joseph undressed me, his eyes never leaving mine. The hunger in his gaze was raw and unbridled. I felt a shiver of anticipation run through me, knowing that this was not just about physical need, but about claiming each other in a way that went beyond the horrors we faced. His touch was gentle, yet firm, as he laid me on the bed, his body covering mine like a warm, protective blanket. His hands traced every inch of my skin, as if memorizing the landscape of my body. His kisses were tender, leaving a trail of fire wherever th
Marta was not happy with me about my plan, but I knew that I had to be with Joseph. She would take care of Isabella and Michael. Every time that Joseph and I are apart, it seems like bad things happen. The twins were crying, and I had to be the strong one. "It's okay," I whispered to them, holding them tight. "Mommy and Daddy will always make sure you are safe." The drive to the airport was a blur, the fear of what was happening weighing heavily on my chest. As we pulled up to the private jet, I took a deep breath. "Antonio, I need to go to the bathroom before we board," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. He nodded, his eyes never leaving the twins. "Make it quick," he said, his hand resting on his gun. In the airport bathroom, I took a moment to compose myself, listening to the sound of the running water and the distant roar of planes. This was it, the moment I had to act. I had to get back to Joseph, to the house. I couldn't just leave him to face this alone. I calle
"Antonio, gather everyone we can trust," I instructed, my mind racing with the potential consequences of this war. "We need to be ready for anything." The house was a hive of activity as the loyalists of the Rossi Family descended upon the safe house. The air was thick with tension and the smell of fear. We had to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. "We need to get the twins out of the city," Selena said, her eyes wide with fear. "They're not safe here." I nodded, my thoughts racing. "I agree. We'll send them to my aunt's in Chicago. They'll be safe there, and it'll be harder for the Sicilians to track them." As we made arrangements for the twins' evacuation, the gravity of the situation settled upon us like a dark cloud. The war was no longer about just the Family's power; it had become personal. The safety of Selena and the twins was paramount. The house phone rang, and the room went silent. I picked it up, my hand shaking. The voice on the other end was cold, calculated,
The ride back to the city was a blur. My thoughts raced with the fear for Selena and the twins, and the anger at the audacity of the Sicilians to invade my home. My grip tightened on the gun in my hand, the cold metal grounding me as we sped through the early morning streets. When we arrived at the house, it was a scene of chaos. Men in black suits swarmed the property, their faces twisted in rage. "Take them down," I ordered my men, and the night air was filled with the roar of gunfire. The battle was intense, the sound of bullets whizzing by, the smell of gunpowder stinging our nostrils. We fought with everything we had, our loyalty to the Family fueling our every move. The Sicilian mafia was formidable, but they had underestimated our determination. As we pushed through the house, I could hear Selena's cries for help, echoing through the halls like a siren's call. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a drum of rage and fear. We found the panic room, the door splintered
The capos looked at each other, their expressions a mix of anger and sadness. The room was thick with tension, and I could feel the anticipation building like a storm about to break. "You both leave me no choice," I continued, my voice hard as steel. "For the crimes you have committed against the Rossi Family, I hereby sentence you to death." Vincenzo's smirk fell, and for the first time, fear flickered in his eyes. "You don't have the guts," he murmured. "You're wrong," I said, my voice cold and unwavering. "I have more than enough." With a nod to my most trusted capo, the two men were forced to their knees, the blindfolds secured tightly over their eyes. They had no idea what was coming, and that was the way it had to be. The room was silent. The only light came from a single bulb swinging overhead, casting shadows across the concrete floor. I stepped closer to Vincenzo, my hand reaching for the gun at my side. "This is your last chance," I whispered. "Confess your si
Eleven hours later, I had Vincenzo and Salvatore back in New York. I had called ahead for all of the Capos to meet. This is the first Il bacio della morte (kiss of death) that I have seen in my lifetime. I had heard rumors of a few during my grandfather's reign as Don, but none since. The jet's engines wound down to a quiet purr, and the door opened, letting in the cold night air. The two traitors stumbled out, bruised and beaten but still alive. The other capos had arrived, and they watched in silence as Vincenzo and Salvatore were brought before them. "This is not how we do things," one of the capos spoke up, his voice filled with disgust. "This is not our way." "Our way is to protect our Family," I said, my tone leaving no room for debate. "And they," I nodded towards Vincenzo and Salvatore, "have betrayed us all." The capos murmured among themselves, but I could see the understanding in their eyes. They knew what had to be done. They knew the gravity of the situation.
Vittoria's smile was knowing. "There's always a catch," she said. "But I believe our interests align, Joseph. For now, let us focus on the task at hand." The plan was simple yet risky. We would strike at night, when the guards were least expecting it. We would have to be swift and precise, leaving no room for error. Antonio and my men nodded in agreement, their eyes filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "We leave at dusk," I told them. "Be ready." The hours ticked by, each one feeling like a year as we waited for nightfall. As the sun dipped below the horizon, we made our way to the warehouse where the shipment was rumored to be hidden. The tension was palpable as we approached, our footsteps silent on the cobblestone streets. The warehouse was a fortress, surrounded by armed men. But we had the element of surprise and a map of the premises provided by Vittoria's spies. We moved with the shadows, our eyes peeled for any signs of danger. Inside, the air was thi
That night, I went to our room, where Selena was cradling Isabella and Michael. They were both fast asleep, their tiny chests rising and falling in unison. Selena looked up at me, her eyes filled with love and warmth. "Selena, I have to leave for Sicily tomorrow," I said, my voice thick with dread. Her eyes widened in shock, and she sat up straighter. "Why?" she asked, her grip on the babies tightening. "We have to find Salvatore and put an end to this," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "Vincenzo has been working with him. They think I'm dead, so I have the element of surprise." Selena's eyes searched mine, a mix of fear and confusion. "But what about us? The babies? Why can't we come with you?" I sighed heavily, stroking her cheek. "It's too dangerous for you and the twins," I explained. "This is something I have to do alone. But I promise I will come back to you." Selena's eyes filled with tears, and she leaned into my touch. "I don't want you to go," she
George swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for a way out. "Salvatore has a mole," he began, his voice low. "Someone inside the Family has been feeding him information." My heart skipped a beat. A mole? This was new information. "Who?" George smirked, enjoying the power of his words. "Someone you trust." My mind raced through the members of the Family, trying to pinpoint who could be capable of such treachery. "You need to be more specific," I growled. He leaned back in his chair, his chains rattling against the metal frame. "Someone very close to you," he taunted. "Someone who has access to your every move and decision." I felt a knot form in my stomach. Could it be one of my own? Someone who had been by my side all these years? "Name them," I demanded, my voice like thunder. George took a deep breath, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "It's your uncle," he said, watching my reaction closely. "Vincenzo Rossi." The room seemed to