Hey, guys! I hope you enjoy today's update. I'm doing better than before... thanks for the love! 💕 Thoughts on the chapter? XOXO! 💕
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
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Four days...It's been four long days since I was unceremoniously transported to this unfamiliar territory known as Chicago. Allegra, with her kindness and a baby bump to boot, keeps urging me to step out of this room, but the overwhelming embarrassment holds me back. I never asked for any of this, and I'm lost in a sea of strangers.But the most unnerving aspect of this situation is the presence of Vincenzo Capone. I'm well aware of his authority and his reputation here in Chicago. In New York, I had a sense of power and Scott to back me up, but here, in Capone's domain, he reigns supreme. He's the untouchable boss, and my vulnerability in this foreign territory is fucking real. In his world, he could pull the strings as he pleased, and no one would so much as flinch.I want to be the brave, gutsy Claire, ready to face whatever curveball life throws at me. I want to jump out there. But anxiety? It's like this relentless bully that's got me cornered. I've spent the
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅My heart pounded in my chest as I paced back and forth in the dimly lit room. It was almost two in the morning and the minutes felt like hours, and I dreaded the moment when Vincenzo would show up. I didn't know what he wanted, but I had a feeling it wouldn't be pleasant.I glanced nervously at the door, my trembling fingers reaching out to turn the lock. With shaky hands, I pushed the bolt into place, the faint click of the lock echoing in the quiet room. I'm usually not the nervous, fidgety type, but the overdose and the medication have ramped up my anxiety, turning me into a jittery, twitching wreck.I needed something more to feel safe. My eyes darted around the room, searching for anything to barricade the door. My gaze landed on the heavy dresser pushed against the wall. It was the only piece of furniture that could possibly block the door.Summoning all my strength, I moved toward the dresser. It was difficult to maneuver on my own, but fear fueled my effort
Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"You're not ready yet, Claire," he murmured, his eyes dark and focused on mine. "But when you are, you'll come to me willingly."I sat there, just watching him, feeling like a fish out of water, trying to grapple with the overwhelming mix of emotions churning inside me. Fear gripped me like a vise, coiling around my every thought and squeezing tight. All this time, I had been right. He's into me, plain and simple."You have feelings for me," I whispered."Feelings?" His eyes flickered with something more complex. "It's not that simple."I forcefully got off the couch, taking a few steps away from him. My thoughts were all over the place, a crazy mix of fear and confusion. My body felt like it was burning up, and I couldn't make sense of his words. I had never been in such a bizarre situation, and it left me completely disoriented.He got up as well, making me take a step back, "What if... What if I don't want to be with you," I stammered, as he casually slipped his
Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Morning rituals – a symphony of punches echoing through my home gym. The home gym was lit just enough to give it that gritty, underground feel. Sunlight struggled through the blinds, casting long shadows on the equipment. I tossed my gloves on a bench, worn and cracked from too many showdowns, and started wrapping tape around my fingers.The punching bag hung there, like an old friend waiting to get pummeled.Bare-knuckled, fists taped, I unleashed fury on the punching bag. Each blow, a calculated dance of power and control. Muscles strained, body dripping sweat. Each punch sent it swinging, and the sound of knuckles meeting leather reverberated through the room. The air was thick with the musky scent of sweat and determination.No fancy workout gear – just me in black boxer shorts, throwing punches like I was settling a score. The morning light played off the sweat rolling down my face, and the whole place felt alive with the energy of a good, hard fight.The t