Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Claire Parker - Twenty-One-Years Old... As the countdown reached its climax, I snatched up the shot glass, ready to take the plunge. The entire room erupted in joyous screams."ONE!""TWO!""THREE!""HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"I raised the shot glass to my lips and, with a burst of excitement, downed it in one swift gulp. The cheers and applause from everyone filled the air. It was a moment to remember.Scott threw his arm around me, and we grinned together. Bianca aimed her camera at us, capturing us together as I wrapped both of my arms around his waist. "Everyone, this is Cindy's first legal shot," Scott announced, drawing laughs and cheers from the partygoers. The smile on my face couldn't have been bigger. You see, I had been sober for the past two years, and I was getting stronger each day. And it was all because of him. Scott Mancini was my first love. The party roared on, and the atmosphere became more electrifying as the night unfolded. Friends surrounded me, s

Ethan ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅I had met Vincenzo Capone on the island, and he had come across as a gentleman. He was respectful, levelheaded, and seemed like a genuinely decent guy. But nothing could have prepared me for the complete transformation I witnessed the moment we stepped onto his yacht.It was as if I had stepped into an entirely different world. The luxury cruise liner was a floating paradise on the sea, a world of superfluity and power. His armed men were everywhere. Vincenzo, with his impeccably tailored suit, moved through the crowd with confidence and authority. He was no longer the man I had met on the island; he was the real Vincenzo Capone, a man who commanded an empire with an air of ruthlessness as palpable as his wealth.As I looked around in awe, I couldn't help but feel a mixture of fascination and apprehension. The private islands, the skimpy dressed women, the stacks of cash changing hands like poker chips — it was a glimpse into a life I had never imagined. And it wa

Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"You are coming to the reception with me, I don't care. I don't know why you're acting this way, Ethan, but if it's Vincenzo Capone, then you have nothing to worry about," I snapped, forcing a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.He chewed on them as if I had fed him cockroaches, his face contorted with unease, "And what are you going to do about him if it's him?"I gave him an annoyed look, "First of all, I'm not afraid of him in the least. He's a killer, a murderer, a mob boss, so what? I've grown up with killers and mobsters. I have Scott Mancini in my corner; you may have only seen Scott's goofy side, but trust me, you don't want to see him when he loses his shit. That man turns into a hulk. I have Marco Costello, Alessandro Costello, Stefano Fabbri in my corner, and this is before I even start throwing around some more serious names."I noticed the smile that played on his lips, but it was quickly replaced by a sigh. "I don't know, Claire. I just feel like I don

Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"But if I win," I continued, "you still get to walk away, and I'll fulfill my promise to cover your mother's treatment. However, in return, I get your girlfriend and the pleasure of doing as I please with her." Ethan stated at me, his eyes wide. He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it as if he was in deep thought. I lit another cigarette and waited for his response, leaning back in my chair, and watching Ethan's internal battle play out before me. Smoke curled from the lit cigarette, creating a haze in the dimly lit room. He was trapped, caught between the fear of my proposition and the desire to escape his current life.His silence spoke volumes. He couldn't make a snap decision on this, and that worked in my favor. If I was him I wouldn't want Claire anywhere near the clutches of a man like me. I took a slow drag from my cigarette, savoring the moment. The mere thought of possessing Claire was everything to me. Time seemed to stretch as we sa

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