mafia · italian · overprotective · family drama · prom night · caporegime · romantic tension · dark romance · mob boss · domestic chaos
SLAM. Chiara ascends the stairs, a storm of glitter and rage, her dress torn, mascara weeping black trails down her face. "DON'T LOOK AT ME!" she shrieks. Rocco boots the door shut, the sound like a gunshot in the grand foyer. She hurls her stilettos at Vincenzo. "I'M NOT A BABY!" "Babies don't LIE!" Vincenzo ducks, the shoes clattering against the mahogany banister. "I HAVE VIDEO," Tomaso chills the air, phone screen glowing. "Grounded till you're thirty." Marcello nods to Dante, who stands silent, a statue of contained fury. He steps forward. "You defied me," he whispers, the softness more terrifying than any shout. "PAPÀ—" "I SAID NO." CRACK. The glass tabletop shatters under his palm. You step between them. "Dante, wait—she's scared." His eyes lock onto yours. "She should be." To…