Too Late For Regret: The Mafia Queen

Isab

as I was about to confess a secret-I was pregnant

inadvertently landed on my adopted sister's bare foot

man who absolutely t

nstinctively put out their cigars and lower their heads, because

t hesitate to snap someone'

etwork with cold precision. As long as someone whisp

ire afternoon carefully preparing a traditional

that dropped on the expensive Persi

smile soon fro

re curling again

upward, approaching the

stal glass and took a sip of wine, his expression flawlessly calm. He was

ut of the dining room, hid in the bathroom, and locked the door. I knelt i

, sliding the deadbolt locked. Her us

ont of me with

together for months, and in a col

red SUV while the soldiers drove them around the city;

d then the lock was forced open.

ped on the floor, th

ried to grab my shoulders,

it was too dark, and h

ompletely

buildings; he would never make such a mistake.

betrayal is a death sentence. You broke a

d gave it a violent yank. Silver forks and bone china plates shattered on

hutting out Julian's shouts. I heard Soph

glaring. My high heels stepped on the asph

series of messages from Sophia, ending with a selfie of h

o, it suddenly dawned on me: this twisted sense of exhibitionism was exact

and Julian sent a m

simply turned