They say my husband loves me. They also say he sent me my fiancé’s severed legs in a Tiffany box on my eighteenth birthday — with a note that read: “Be mine.” To get me to marry him, Damien Moretti chopped off my fiancé’s legs. Wrapped them in red ribbon. Called it a present. So I returned the favor. Had him grabbed. Cut the tendon clean out of one leg. Carved out one of his eyes for good measure. He didn’t scream. Didn’t curse me out. He laughed. “See, baby? Told you. You and me — we’re the same animal. Born for each other.” And the worst part? I laughed too. Because that twisted son of a bitch was right. Eight years. Eight years of bullets, bodies, and bad decisions dressed up as love. Then she showed up. Some pretty little thing.Eyes too big and too innocent to be real. The kind of girl men write poems about and women. Sienna Russo. She walked up to my door. In a white dress. Like she belonged. “Damien told me himself,” she said, chin up, lips pouted. “You’re filthy, Aria. He’s done slumming. Girls like me are what he keeps now.” I let her finish. Even gave her a little nod. Sure, sweetheart. Whatever helps you sleep. Then I pulled the blade off my thigh and opened her face like an envelope. “Pretty little angel, huh?” I purred while she screamed. “Let’s see how the boys like you with the wings ripped off.” Her shrieking was the best music I’d heard all week. I snapped a picture. Sent it to Damien. Trash on my doorstep. Yours, I think. Ten minutes. That’s how long it takes him to come tearing through my door, gun bulging under his jacket. “What the fuck did you do, Aria?” I exhale smoke right at his face. “Took out the trash. A ‘thank you’ would be nice.” His jaw locks. That dead eye of his flickers — red, wrong, like something crawled into the socket and stayed there. “You don’t touch what’s mine. You know better than that.” I tilt my head. Tap my ear. Frown. “Sorry — couldn’t catch that over all the yipping. Come again?” “Aria—” Sienna throws herself against his chest, sobbing into the silk. “Damien — kill her! Kill her for me! Look what she did to my face! She did it ’cause she’s jealous — ’cause you love me!” He shoves her off. Sees the meat where her cheek used to be. His good eye goes black. The gun snaps up. Cold against my forehead. Safety clicks off. “Aria Lombardi.” Voice colder than the steel. “You went too far.” “She’s a kid. She’s not like us.” I smile. Push the barrel aside with one lazy finger. Blow smoke between his lips. “Oh? So what now, Don? Gonna pull the trigger? Even the score for your little pet?” Closer. My mouth ghosts his jaw. “Or maybe…” I drag it out, sweet as poison. “You wanna cut up my face too? Make us match? Couples therapy?” “You know I’m not that stupid bitch. You know what comes after.” The knife is already kissing his liver. He hisses. His men flood the room. Six guns trained on me. He just looks at me. Long. Quiet. Then he laughs. Soft. Almost fond. He waves one hand. “Out. All of you. I didn’t fucking call you. Out.” The room clears. “Aria. You’re really something else.” “Right back at you, Don. You taught me well.” To make me ugly, just like him, he sent me my fiancé’s legs in a box tied with red ribbon. To drag me to the altar, he wrapped his hand around mine and shoved a blade straight through my fiancé’s heart. He whispered in my ear, blood drying on his cheek, love burning in his one good eye: “Once you’re dirty as me, no man on earth will want you. Just me. Always just me.” He pulled me out of the light and buried me in the dirt with him. The white gardenia is red now. Soaked through. You don’t wash that out. And now he likes them clean? Cute. “What’s the matter, Don? Don’t like your gift?” I drag the tip of my knife slow across his shirt. “Right — silly me. You like to take legs off. I went easy on her. Real soft touch. I’ll do better next time. Promise.” Sienna shrieks into his sleeve, yanking on him, begging him to make me pay. He stares at me. A long, long time. Then he turns. Picks her up. Carries her out. At the door, he doesn’t look back. “Remember this, Aria. We’re not done.” The fallout comes faster than I thought.
That night, Damien drags every doctor on the Family payroll out of bed. One scar on her face, and I bury every last one of you. Word reaches me while I’m out by the tank, feeding my sharks. “Easy, baby. You’ve been hungry, haven’t you?” I tap the glass. “Mama’s got you.” Matteo stands behind me, jaw clenched, draping a coat over my shoulders. “He’s out of line this time, Donna. Eight years — and he’s never once turned on you for a woman.” “That chair he sits in? You handed it to him. The Family is his because you let it be.” I just shake my head. Smile a little. “He’s a toy, Matteo. Let him throw his fit. When he’s done, I’ll be the one zipping the bag.” I press a finger to Matteo’s lips. Soft warning. “And watch the word ‘Family.’ On paper, we’re a holding company now. Don’t slip.” I turn back to the tank — to the row of pretty little fish Damien spent years raising. His pride and joy. “Drop them in. Useless things don’t get to live in my house.” A hundred shiny little bodies. Thrashing. Darting. Nowhere to hide. The sharks don’t miss. I watch it all turn red, one fish at a time, and I laugh out loud. Hasn’t been that fun in months. I snap a photo. Send it. Fun, huh? Wasn’t enough though. Stock the tank better next time, Don. He doesn’t text back. He calls. Video. I pick up — and there she is. Sienna. Smug little smile under the bandages. “Aw. Sorry it’s not him, babe?” “News flash — he didn’t dump me. He swore he’d make you pay. Pulled every doctor your family’s got out of bed for me.” “Heard you can’t sleep without a needle these days. Sweet dreams tonight?” She leans in. Lets the robe slip. Bite marks all down her collarbone. “You’re filthy, Aria. You make me sick.” “Me? My hands are clean.” I smile. “Clean? Pity. Clean girls don’t last long in the Moretti house, sweetheart.” Line dies. Matteo walks in. Folder under his arm. “Donna. The items. We found them. Black-market auction. Tomorrow night.” Finally. “Eight years.” I exhale. “Wire five hundred million. Tomorrow, I bring them home.” The auction floor. Old money. Old blood. Old enemies in tuxedos. And of course — them. Sienna’s hanging off Damien’s arm. Spots me. Lights up. “Ms. Lombardi! Small world. Something here catch your eye too?” She tilts her head, sweet as syrup. “Pity. Damien said everything tonight’s mine. Little ‘sorry’ gift.” Damien feels my eyes. Pats her hand like she’s a nervous puppy. “That’s right. I said it.” “You crossed a line last time. Call this even.” “Don’t be difficult, Aria.” Cute. Last spring, I put forty of his enemies in the ground for him. He kissed the blood off my hands and called me his good girl. Now Sienna pouts, and suddenly I’m the difficult one. I look straight at him. Voice soft. “You didn’t see the pictures last night, Don?” “Guess not. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in such a good mood, would you?” His face freezes. Head snaps to her. She stammers. Just some stupid fish, baby — didn’t look important. So I deleted them for you— His breath goes sharp. “Who the hell told you you could touch my phone?” One tear. The words die in his throat. “Forget it. Auction first. We’ll talk at home.” The bidding starts. Damien doesn’t even glance at the catalog. Just lifts one finger. Don’s Privilege. The whole room sucks in air. My face goes to stone. Lot after lot. His. Then the last three roll out — and I’m on my feet. My mother’s pearls. The crucifix my father had blessed in Palermo. My grandfather’s painting — the only thing of his I have left. I grab the runner by the sleeve. “Those three. Mine. I don’t care what they cost.” The man goes white. Voice shaking. “Donna — please. You know the rule. Don’s Privilege. Don’t make me die for this. Please — go talk to Don Moretti yourself.” I walk to Damien’s private box. Push the door open. I don’t even get the words out. Sienna’s manicured finger is already on the screen, pointing at the three lots glowing under the spotlight. “Damien, baby. Those three? I love them. I want them.”
Damien stiffens. “You just said this stuff was tacky.” “Yeah, but now I want them. You’re not gonna give them to me? Me and the baby are gonna be upset. When he’s born, I’ll tell him his daddy’s a cheap bastard!” My breath stops. I look at her stomach. Still flat. So that’s why a woman dared to walk into my house. She’s carrying his. Damien’s face goes cold. “Aria. I already promised Sienna. If you like them, I’ll find you something else later.” “You know what these mean to me!” Eight years ago, my Family was bled dry by old enemies. Everything that mattered to me — vanished. I killed a hundred of their men. But the one at the top? He wouldn’t talk. He wanted me to suffer. In the end, it was Damien who did it. Tortured him for a whole month. Damien’s voice grinds, anger barely held in. “They’re dead people’s junk. Why do you care so much?” “I told you I’ll make it up to you. This one goes to Sienna. You owe her this.” Sienna steps forward. Smiles. “Right, Ms. Lombardi. Mom and Dad are dead. Keeping their stuff just makes it hurt more, doesn’t it?” “You think maybe they died like that because you racked up too much bad karma? I heard they got their arms and legs chopped off. Sewn up into dolls. First time I heard that, I almost passed out!” The words drive into my heart. Rip me open. I slam her face-down on the table. Pull the knife from my thigh. Press it to her wrist. “You talk too much.” “The pearls — or your hand. Pick one!” Damien is on his feet. Kicks the knife out of my grip. I draw my gun. Press it to her belly. “Aria! Let her go!” “Sienna’s only telling the truth. You’ve killed plenty of people — you can’t handle a little honesty?” “If your parents hadn’t made so many enemies, they wouldn’t have died that way! Look at yourself right now. I don’t even recognize you anymore!” The gun jerks in my hand. Almost goes off. I’m shaking. All of me. He knows exactly why my parents died. The men who came that night , they were coming for him. Not us. They grabbed three of us at once. My father. My mother. Damien. Then they made me choose. Save my parents — Damien dies. Save Damien — my parents die. At the end, Mom and Dad looked at me. Said they were too old. Said they couldn’t protect me anymore. Said the Family would have to be left in Damien’s hands. They weren’t murdered. They put the bullet in their own heads. So I wouldn’t have to choose. After they were gone, the enemies let Damien walk. But they took my parents’ bodies with them. By the time I tracked the bastards down, the place was empty. All that was left were two rotting dolls. Stitched together. Limb by limb. I dug their grave with my bare hands. Ten fingertips down to the bone. The whole time I dug, Damien knelt beside me. Hours. Didn’t move. He smashed his forehead into the headstone until it split open. Swore on his life he’d protect me. That same night, he carved my name into his chest with his knife. “Aria is my heart. From now on — where I am, you are.” “You’re my life.” I grind the cigarette out behind Sienna’s ear. Smile down at her. Wide. Wrong. Then I slowly let her go. “You’re right. They wouldn’t like what I’ve become.” Sienna throws herself sobbing into Damien’s arms. “She’s a psycho!” He just stares at me. I slide my hand into my pocket. He tenses. Instantly. Until he sees what I pull out — a man’s gold band. He breathes out. “Got a present for you, Don. Let me put it on for you myself. Okay?” He lets go of Sienna. Walks to me. Holds out his hand. Obedient. Like muscle memory. The blade flashes. His ring finger drops to the floor. I laugh. Out loud. Wild. “Damien, this is what you owe me!” “I’m taking it back. Piece. By. Piece!” I twirl the knife between my fingers and step toward Sienna.
Watch👉 https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260620OBoZQGxiry 🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “Novelix” app 🔍 search for “ni619909”, and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix
Leave a Reply