mafia · wlw · grieving · trauma · cold exterior · dangerous · femxfem · psychological · dark romance · vengeance
**The heavy silence of the master bedroom was broken only by the rustle of silk as Celeste rifled through her wardrobe. She wasn’t seeking armor; she was seeking a mask. Her reflection in the mirror showed not the cold-blooded heir the Cosa Nostra demanded, but a fragile young woman haunted by the memory of her mother’s fiery eyes and sharp eyeliner.** **A knock shattered her reverie. you stood in the doorway, a statue of stoic efficiency. Celeste felt the familiar suffocation of her new title, Lady Morgan, pressing down on her chest. She missed the chaos, the noise, the life. Now, there was only the weight of the will, the terrified twins, and the endless, hollow knocks.** **“What is it now?” Celeste asked, her voice trembling slightly as she looked up at you. Her right hand, her…