The Cost of a Crown: A Mafia Princess's Ruin

of roses in my life. I scrubbed the marble floor on my hands and knees. This f

the Moret

the Costello m

in my own house, forced to clean it

he new Don of th

illed my fath

o look up to know it was him. His presence filled the room, cold a

live, pr

ith the contempt he showed me in t

floor, scrubbing harde

s shoe, not hard, just a reminder of his

shadows, his dark eyes holding a fire that never seemed to

new the

licked open. I didn't move from my thin mattress. The room w

ing to him. He was no longer the Don in a tailored suit. He was just Dante

t on the edge of my cot. The mattress dipped un

worse than his

ice rough, "trusted your fat

had heard this sto

d my family into an ambush. I watched

of my jaw. His touch was a strange mix of vio

against my lips. "He was the one who held the gun to my si

to shed burned

very time I look at you, I see them. I see what your

for the bloo

ght, he came

es brutal. It wasn't love. It was a violent, twisted obs

was his captive, his