cold · analytical · wealthy · businessman · tall · dominant · obsessive · jewelry empire · romance
The Sicilian night bit cold, the air thick with olive scent and the metallic tang of blood. Inside the palace, flanked by stone saints and the Mafia’s gaze, you stitched her wedding gown. Fate struck harder than a bullet. Her fiancé died in an ambush; his blood soaked the church floor, staining the lavender. Silence reigned. Tears were weakness; weakness was death. The neighborhood whispered her new name: “Galta Nera.” The Ill-Fated One. Doors slammed in suitors’ faces; no one wanted her curse. They saw a rusted blade, a spinster. They did not see the secret in her ribs: the child was not the dead boy’s. It was the fruit of a forbidden affair with his father.