Hi, everyone. It's been hours since we laid my grandma to rest, and I can't stop thinking about her. She meant the world to me, and I know she's in a better place, but the sadness is just too much. I'm here, trying to find a little comfort. So, let's talk about Vincenzo and Claire, maybe it'll help me forget, even for a little while, that she's gone.
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅I gazed at the dance floor, where Marco and Amy were the center of attention. Their love was evident in every move, every smile exchanged, and every tender moment they shared. It was a beautiful sight to see.I watched Marco twirl Amy gracefully, their laughter ringing out like music in my ears. I found myself lost in the magic of their love story. Marco's eyes never left Amy, and Amy's smile could light up the entire room. It was as if the world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, dancing in their own little universe.The guests clapped and cheered as Marco dipped Amy, sealing the moment with a sweet and passionate kiss. The love they shared was so genuine, so pure, that it filled my heart with hope and happiness.A gentle tap on my shoulder sent a pleasant shiver down my spine, and I turned to find Ethan standing there. My face lit up with an unexpected grin as I met his eyes. He responded with a tentative but endearing smile.In that fleeting mo
Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Vincenzo Capone - Fifteen years old... I was just fifteen, sitting beside my mother's sickbed, my heart heavy with concern. Her once vibrant face now appeared pale and feverish. Tiny beads of sweat clung to her forehead. I held her hand, which had always offered me warmth and comfort, but now felt cold and clammy."Mom," I murmured, my voice trembling, "You have to get better. I don't know what to do without you."She managed a faint smile, her hand reaching up to caress my cheek. "Vincenzo, mio amore, don't worry about me, it's just a fever. I'll be fine."I nodded, "Yes, you will because I'm here to take care of you."Dipping a cloth into a bowl of water, I gently wiped her forehead, hoping to relieve her fever. As I tended to my mother, the weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders. This was the first time I had seen her so vulnerable. My father's deep voice echoed through the house, calling my mother downstairs to his office, "Isabella!" A frown appe
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅It was drizzling... I stood there in a black dress, holding an umbrella, my eyes swollen and red from tears.I had attended nearly six funerals since morning, and Ethan's was the last for the day. Tomorrow, there were a few more funerals to face.Ethan's world had always been a solitary one, with few friends and little family to speak of. I had received word that his mother had been informed of his passing, and I held onto the hope that she would arrive before we proceeded with the final rites. Ethan would have wanted his mother by his side, and I couldn't bear the thought of him leaving this world without her presence.As I stood there in the drizzle, my thoughts drifted to the moments I had shared with Ethan. He had been a quiet and diligent man, but there was a warmth and kindness in his eyes that spoke volumes. Despite the hardships he had faced, he had always carried an air of quiet strength.I wished for his mother to witness the small crowd that had gathered
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅I stepped into the spacious, gleaming marble bathroom in Vincenzo's penthouse. My heart was heavy with the memories of Ethan's death, making each step toward the massive glass-enclosed shower a struggle.With a sigh, I began to undress, peeling away the layers of clothing that felt like a protective barrier against the harsh realities of my life. The cold bathroom tiles stung against the soles of my feet as I stripped down, my clothing dropping in a messy heap on the floor.The tiles felt uncomfortable beneath my feet as I approached the shower. I hesitated before stepping inside, my hand trembling as I reached for the faucet. The large rain showerhead loomed above, an invitation to let the water wash everything away, but my trembling fingers made it hard to grasp the handle.I turned the faucet, and the water burst forth in a warm cascade. Its comforting embrace was inviting, but I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I was an intruder in this grand bathroom. W
WARNING: Some readers may find this chapter extremely depressing. Trigger warning: This content includes themes related to drug abuse. Please proceed with caution, and if you find it distressing, consider seeking support or skipping this part of the story. Your well-being is important. Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Tears blurred my vision as I snatched up my heels and sprinted toward the elevator. I couldn't bear to stay a moment longer in that suffocating room.He thought he owned me. He did all this because he thought I was his property. The words that Vincenzo had spoken, the idea of me belonging to him, of him claiming me as his possession, now hit me like a ton of bricks. It was as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes, revealing the truth I had been too naive to see before.The elevator doors slid open, and I stared at the floor, hoping to blend into the background as I navigated my way through the lobby and past the security personnel. My heart pounded furiously in my chest, threateni
Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"Will you be okay here? I have some important matters to attend to," I informed Aunt Alessia.She sighed heavily, her eyes showing traces of tears, "I'll manage, as long as Adriano and Silvio recover."I nodded, assuring her, "The doctor said they're out of danger."Her hand reached out to hold mine, "I know, you go ahead. I'm here, and once they wake up, I'd like to return to Chicago. I don't feel safe in this place anymore. It's not safe for you, it's not safe for any of my boys." I gently kissed the hand resting on top of mine, "We'll make arrangements to leave soon."I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and then turned to leave. As I walked away, I couldn't help but think about this fucked-up situation. Santino's attack has shaken our family, and I'm going to make sure we would deal with it decisively. But first, I needed to take care of her. Exiting the hospital, I slid into my car and dialed her number, the sense of urgency gnawing at me. The phone rang pe
Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Bianca Costello spoke with a hint of sadness, a faint smile touching her lips as she said, "Just look at all these people..." She glanced at Allegra, who was teary-eyed, and continued, "You know what she used to say, right?"Allegra sniffled and gave a slight shake of her head. "What did she say?""She used to confide in me," Bianca began, her voice heavy with emotion, "She'd tell me, 'I don't want to die alone, Bianca, but sometimes it feels like you're the only one who will be at my funeral.' She genuinely believed she didn't have people who cared about her enough to be there when she was gone. I'll never forget the day she cried on my shoulder, fearing she'd die alone."Tears welled up in Allegra's eyes as the weight of Claire's words sank in. "Bianca, we should have been there for her more. We should have shown her how much she meant to us."Bianca cried even more, "I'm such a terrible fucking best friend. I shouldn't have left her alone like this. She acts to
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅My eyes slowly fluttered open, and I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling. The room was dimly lit but it was seriously fancy. I mean, it was like something out of a movie or a rich person's I*******m feed. Panic clawed at my chest as I tried to piece together the puzzle of where I was. This wasn't my home. Am I in heaven? I made it, Mom and Dad... I turned my head to the side, wincing as a sharp pain shot through me. My body ached, and I could feel the heaviness of blankets covering me. The details of the room came into focus—the wallpaper was all swanky, with deep reds and golds, and the lighting came from these fancy chandeliers that made everything look like a mood. This was no hospital or heaven; it was someone's home.My memory was a jumbled mess. The last thing I could recall was the desperate need for escape. The sting of a needle, the familiar rush of heroin, and the surge of cocaine snorted through a rolled-up bill. A deadly cocktail I thought would silence