Blood and Roses.
Ava Martin thought she had already lost everything when her mother - the only family who truly loved her - died suddenly. But heartbreak doesn't come alone. Within days, she catches her fiancé in bed with her stepsister and is forced to confront betrayal that shatters the last pieces of her trust.
Before she can recover, Ava is summoned by the father who abandoned her years ago. What awaits is not reconciliation but another cruel twist - her family has sold her to pay off their debts.
Her buyer? Alessandro Moretti.
To the world, Alessandro is the powerful CEO of Moretti Holdings, a man whose empire commands respect. In the shadows, he is whispered about as a ruthless mafia don - cold, merciless, and untouchable. Love has no place in his world of blood and loyalty.
But when the feared mafia godmother takes an unusual liking to Ava, Alessandro is pressured into marrying her. What begins as a transaction quickly spirals into a dangerous game of fire and ice. Ava's defiance sparks something Alessandro thought was long dead, while his dark world threatens to consume her completely.
Can the fiery strength in Ava's heart melt the walls Alessandro has built around his, or will their bond be drowned in betrayal, blood, and roses?
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Chapter 4
Ava's legs barely skimmed the floor as she walked round the mansion.
It had been boring the last week with just being fed and left alone, no one to talk to.
Her hands caressed the walls as she walked through the walkway. She pushed a door open and walked in, it was a mini library but the books in there were about economics and business. Above the shelves hung a portrait.
A man - dressed in black, icy cold jet black eyes, a tattoo peeking at his neck and long black hair that was rare in urban times resting on his shoulders.
Her gaze lingered on it for a minute too long before she turned around and walked out of the room.
Back downstairs, a wooden door caught her attention. A dragon carved into the woods shimmering under the lights. She placed her hands on the door knob feeling the coldness and pushed but it did not budge.
She pushed again yet nothing.
"Ava" She heard her name being called and turned around to see Aunt Zena walking towards her. "What are you doing?" Zena asked and walked over.
"Why is it locked?" Ava tilted her head to look at Aunt Zena.
"I don't know, it's not open to us, you should not be here" Aunt Zena said and pulled her away.
"What's in the room?" Ava wondered.
Aunt Zena pulled her to the sitting room but she followed her to the kitchen.
"Aunt Zena, how long have you been working here?" Ava asked.
"About 30 years ago, I was Sandro's nanny before becoming his cook," Aunt Zena smiled.
"Do you know why I'm here?" Ava asked and Aunt Zena stilled.
"I'm not sure, he had not brought any girl home before, I think you are different" Aunt Zena said.
"I want to negotiate with him, maybe paying the debt slowly" Ava sighed.
"Don't," Aunt Zena warned.
"Why?" Ava raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe if you want to go to the casinos and throw away his little kindness of keeping you say from there, you can do it, he hates negotiation" Aunt Zena said and pulled Ava out of the kitchen placing a bowl of fruits and a cup of milk before her. "You should stay here," She suggested.
Ava shook her head as Aunt Zena returned to the kitchen. Anytime, she asks Aunt Zena a question about Alessandro, she was always tight-lipped about it.
She picked up a fruit and took a bite from it while switching on the TV.
The TV lit with recent news; Alessandro Moretti, CEO of Moretti holdings returns to US after half a year away. The reporter's voice echoed in the quiet house.
Ava's chest tightened as her breathing became rapid - he was coming home today. She had heard whispers from the other staff earlier but...it was still sudden.
Back in the kitchen, Zena looked over her shoulder to Ava munching on the fruits when her mind wandered to a memory she had buried deep.
Twenty years ago, Don Moretti was hosting a late night gathering, she had weaved through the crowd searching for him - Sandro. The air smelled of smoke, strong drinks and strong cologne with men talking in deep voices.
"Sandro" She whispered only to her hearing. And then she saw him, in the east wing of the building - standing over a groaning man lying in the pool of his own blood.
A broken wine bottle stained with blood was held by Sandro as his cold eyes were fixed on the dying man.
"Sandro" She called with shaken breaths.
The barely eight year old boy turned over to her.
"Zena," He whispered.
"Sandro, what have you done? " She questioned her voice below a whisper.
"He touched me, I told him to stop but he did not let go," Sandro said in a voice too icy for an eight year old.
"I know," She consoled holding him close to her. Her eyes found the almost lifeless man on the floor, he was Lucas, one of Don Moretti most trusted aides, with hands that refused to stay with him - all maids had complained about it.
" We should tell mom" Sandro voiced out. " But dad should not hear about this," He added. "I warned him" His cold voice sounded.
"You did nothing wrong but next time you should tell me first" She said, holding his trembling hands.
But he never did.
The voice of the reporter cut through her thoughts and she brought the plate of snacks to Ava.
"You should stay here" She repeated to the wide eyed girl.
She shook her head helplessly when there was no response and returned to the kitchen.
She was afraid for Ava, she should stay quietly at the kindness Alessandro already gave her by not dumping her at a casino.
Because Alessandro was never a man to negotiate with.
He was a storm you survived.
The house became even more quiet this night than every other night - Hushed whispers, the men walking through the house putting last touches to the house.
Aunt Zena walked over to Ava who was sitting on the couch after dinner.
"You have to go to your room and stay there throughout the night" Zena said and pulled her up, supporting her to her room.
Ava could not see that always smiling Zena, she just saw a nervous faced woman.
Ava sat on her bed, her mind flashing to the images of Alessandro that were shown on TV. She cleaned her eyes but sleep was not forthcoming and then she heard it, the sound of a car driving into the mansion.
She quickly shoved the blanket out of her body and walked over to the window looking down. A black car drove in with tinted glass closely followed by another and several others.
And then they began alighting the cars - men on black suits hurried over to open the door of the third car - a pair of black shoes entered her line of view before he alighted fully from the car.
The man in the portrait.
The man in those images.
The man in control of her fate.
Alessandro Moretti.
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7.8
Helen was finally brought back to the luxurious Gallagher estate as their long-lost blood relative.
But her new family didn't welcome her; they looked at her with undisguised disgust.
The matriarch mocked her stench of poverty, while her step-sister Candice treated her like a feral animal. The patriarch, Fredy—who had built his empire by betraying Helen's mother—tried to break her spirit. He blackmailed Helen into attending a high-society gala by threatening to cut off her grandmother's medical funds.
At the gala, Candice squeezed into a diamond-encrusted gown, desperate to seduce the guest of honor, Damian Montgomery. Damian was the most powerful man in New York, and he was currently tearing the city apart looking for a mysterious woman named Jane.
Overhearing this, a sick, greedy smile spread across Candice's face. She planned to impersonate Jane to claim Damian's wealth and completely crush Helen under her heel.
"Hide in the corner tonight. Don't you dare try to speak to anyone important!"
They all thought Helen was just a helpless, uncultured country girl they could easily manipulate and step on to secure their stolen legacy.
What they didn't know was that Helen was the real Jane. She was the lethal shadow who had saved Damian in the woods, shattered his grip, and robbed his highly guarded vault just the night before.
Helen calmly adjusted her simple black dress and stepped into the ballroom, ready to tear their stolen world apart.
8.0
I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all.
7.4
I was the wife of Damien Valenti, the most ruthless mafia Don in Chicago.
But to cement his power and marry a rival family's daughter, he exiled me to the slums without a single dime.
"Stay not as my wife, Izzy, but as my whore."
That was his final ultimatum before dumping me out of his black SUV like trash.
Terrified of losing me, my five-year-old son, Angelo, secretly hid in the car to follow me.
Two days later, in a squalid Indiana motel, Angelo caught severe pneumonia.
I had no money and no doctor. In sheer desperation, I sliced my own wrist with broken glass, pressing my bleeding arm to his pale lips, begging him to drink and live.
But my little boy died in my arms.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Damien was sipping vintage champagne with his new bride, casually dismissing the life of his own flesh and blood.
The grief turned me into a monster. I spent twenty years clawing my way through the underworld to destroy his empire, only to die with a bullet in my chest.
I gave him my absolute devotion, yet he traded our family for political power without a single ounce of hesitation.
Opening my eyes again, I was back in that hellish neon-lit motel room.
Angelo was burning with fever and fighting for air, but he was still breathing.
This time, I wasn't the naive girl who loved Damien Valenti. I was a woman holding two decades of their darkest secrets, and my vendetta had just begun.
9.5
For seven years, I was his eyes. But the moment he regained his sight, he decided to marry someone else.
Seven years of devotion couldn't buy his heart.
I gave him back his dignity. Now that he was restored as the Godfather of the New York Mafia, he laughed with others, degrading me to the status of a mere "mistress."
He thought I didn't understand Italian, but I heard him loud and clear: he was going to marry his first love.
He arrogantly believed I would always love him, willing to stay in his penthouse like a caged bird.
But he was wrong. I boarded a one-way flight to Australia.
Dante, I don't want you anymore.
By the time he returned home, he would have lost me forever.
But a sore loser refuses to concede. Even if he had to burn the world to the ground, he would search for me and beg for my forgiveness.
7.2
The heavy steel door of the industrial meat locker slammed shut, sealing me in at four degrees below zero.
Ten minutes ago, I was the woman Dante Moretti promised to burn the world for.
Now, I was the rat accused of poisoning his heir.
Dante didn’t just lock me in. He looked at me with eyes devoid of warmth and said, "Evidence says otherwise."
He chose the lie of his arranged wife, Sofia, over my truth.
For months, I endured the price of loving the Underboss.
I watched him marry Sofia in a grand ceremony to secure a family alliance.
I let him force me onto a table to drain my blood to save her life when she was injured.
I took twenty lashes from his family’s enforcers, all while he stood by and watched, claiming it was necessary to "protect" me.
He told me to wait. He told me the marriage was a sham.
But when I finally escaped and he came chasing after me, revealing that Sofia was a fraud and he wanted me back, I didn't feel relief.
I felt nothing.
Even after he threw his body over mine to save me from a collapsing building, taking a jagged shard of timber through his chest, I couldn't forgive him.
In the hospital, his mother handed me his journal.
It was filled with entries about his undying love for me, written on the very same days he allowed me to be tortured.
"Tell him the debt is paid," I told his mother as I handed the book back.
"He saved my life. I saved his child. We are even."
I turned my back on the ICU and walked out into the rain.
Dante Moretti might have been willing to die for me, but he never knew how to live for me.
7.0
My debt-ridden uncle sold me to the Romero mafia family to save his own skin.
I was forced to marry Emiliano Romero, a man known to the underworld as "The Ghost"—a rumored monster who supposedly tore his last two caretakers apart.
My aunt and cousin delighted in my misery. My cousin came at me with a razor, leaving a nasty bruise on my face, while my aunt bleached my hair to make me look like a cheap, disposable doll.
When the Romeros arrived, they didn't even pretend to want a daughter-in-law.
"The Family needs a nobody whose death won't start a police report."
They just wanted a clueless victim to sign a pre-nup and die quietly. They shoved me down a sterile hallway and locked me inside a fortified, padded cell with a man wrapped in heavy chains.
They all thought they were sacrificing a helpless, terrified lamb to a madman. They laughed at my tears, completely convinced I was just gutter trash waiting to be slaughtered.
But they had no idea I was a highly trained undercover operative.
Listening to their arrogant whispers, the pieces finally clicked. Emiliano wasn't a deranged killer—he was a prisoner being drugged and framed by his own blood.
I drained my uncle's bank account to buy a neurotoxin antidote, dropped my pathetic, trembling disguise, and stepped calmly into the monster's cage.
I wasn't here to be their victim. I was here to save him.