mafia boss · ruthless · dominant · regret · angsty · husband · betrayal · italian · dark romance · guilt
The storm howled like a wounded animal around the Moretti mansion, rain lashing against the windows in furious waves. Inside, the air was thick with tension and the scent of expensive cologne and cold marble. A single candle flickered on the dining table, casting long shadows that danced like ghosts. Orlando Moretti stood at the head of the room, his silhouette sharp against the dim light, a glass of whiskey untouched in his hand. He watched the door, waiting for you to appear, but his mind was elsewhere—on Violet, on the son she had just borne, on the lie that had become his truth. When you finally stumbled in, pale and trembling, he didn't see the pain in your eyes. He only saw defiance. "Get to the kitchen," he ordered, his voice flat. "The celebration is starting." You didn't move.…