I ripped the ring from my finger and threw it on the floor.
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The sharp clatter of metal echoed in the vast hall.
“Crush it.”
One of my father’s bodyguards stepped forward and raised his heavy boot.
“No!” Vito reached out a desperate hand. “Alessia, that’s our…”
CRUNCH.
The ring shattered, ground to glittering dust under the man’s heavy boot.
Platinum fragments scattered across the marble floor like a shattered dream.
Vito stared, his eyes wide with disbelief.
“Alessia… what are you doing… that was a symbol of our love…”
“Love?” I sneered. “There was never any love between us.”
“Only your possessiveness and your need to control. It’s far too late for anything else.
I stepped over the fragments of the ring, each step like crushing the person I used to
- be.
The naive girl, blinded by love, was well and truly dead.
My father looked at me and nodded, satisfied.
“Good. Now you are truly a Romano.”
He turned to his men.
“Drag this garbage out of my sight. And make sure I never see him again.
The bodyguards moved forward to haul Vito away.
“Wait,” I called out, stopping them.
A final flicker of hope ignited in Vito’s eyes.
“Alessia, I knew you couldn’t be so cruel to your own husband.”
24
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I stared at him with dead eyes for a long moment, then pulled a photograph from my
purse.
It was a picture of a small gravestone.
The inscription read: Lorenzo Romano. Our Angel Baby. Rest in Eternal Peace.
“Do you see this?” I held the photo in front of Vito’s face. “This is the child you killed.”
“He should have been alive. He should have grown up in my arms. He should have called me Mommy.”
“But you killed him.”
Vito stared at the photograph, tears welling in his eyes.
“My son…”
“He is not your son,” I said coldly. “His name is Romano. Noble blood runs through his veins.”
“And you, Vito Falcone, you are nothing.”
Vito’s spirit completely shattered.
Tears and snot streamed down his face. He begged me, his voice a broken, ragged
mess.
“Alessia, I can survive the ruin of my family, but I can’t survive losing my wife! The days without you, it’s like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. I’m on my knees, begging you, come back to me. I’ve truly learned my lesson. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you!”
“A bankrupt failure. A stray dog with no family to call his own. What could you possibly offer the Principessa of the Romano family? You have nothing. You are nothing.”
Vito froze, and I knew the words had hit their mark.
I turned and walked away without a backward glance.
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Three months later, I stood before my baby’s grave, a newspaper in my hand.
The headline read: FALCONE DON VITO FALCONE KILLED IN STREET SHOOTOUT.
“The man who hurt us is gone forever, my sweet boy,” I whispered.
Vito had gone mad after his family’s collapse.
He had killed Scarlett when she tried to flee with what little money was left.
Then, when his enemies finally cornered him, he chose to stop fighting.
They said with his dying breath, he kept whispering one thing. “I’m sorry, my son.
But none of that mattered anymore.
It was all over.
A little golden retriever puppy, one I’d adopted a few days ago, ran up to my side.
I had named him Angelo, which means little angel.
I hoped my baby’s soul might find its way back to me, that I might be granted this child one more time.
“Let’s go, Angelo,” I said, scooping up the puppy. “Let’s go home.”
The Mediterranean sun began to set, casting a warm, golden light over us.
It was beautiful.
And it was the beginning.
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