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Rejected By Blood, Crowned By The Don

Rejected By Blood, Crowned By The Don

Author: CAMILLE BERRY
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Chapter 1

Word Count: 1299    |    Released on: 11/06/2026

ed me from our estate, freezing my bank accounts

sister Isabella, or they would strip my Famiglia pr

or Donna Rosa, a revered underworld Matriarch, b

ntally arrived at their compound, I went ba

sabella poured scalding coffee over the document,

ystal decanter at her, and my parents violently shoved the eld

e white marble, my parents didn'

to steal our property, and you ar

ealization that their love was just a leash, and to them, I wa

red the unforgiving law of Omerta, and dialed the

pte

na

inked on the motel's card reader. From my telephone, my

beg your sister's forgiveness before the midnight bell, or I will strip the F

ed hollows, popped his chewing gum. He tapped a fingernail, the cuticle b

mademoiselle," he s

uselessness made it feel light, a flimsy rectangle o

upon my eighteenth birthday; they had, with the precision of surgeons, seve

lamb brought to a city of wolves, a city co

much a man as a gravitational force, one who had built his dominio

every corner of the city, their

was a blade held to the throat of every man, woman, and child. His word was the only law that held weigh

y parents knew precisely what became of unpro

ey were using the city's inherent let

s since I stood in the gran

r faces masks of contrived joy as they held my older sister, I

y's business, her eyes alight with the prospect of money

his gaze, cold and flat

around his jaw twitching as he spat the word "traitor

money over my own flesh and blood, b

arpets and peeling paint on the very edg

-two dollars in cr

ight in this airless room, let a

belly, a physical ache that made eac

erk's dismissive gaze and

ed on the

she hissed, her voi

sing as she accused me of caring

ise in my throat, ho

I saved for my tuitio

oor's old hinges, a sound like a nail being drawn

m the bottom of his throat,

ws, calling me an ungrateful creature who deserved

unts are your le

aws of Omerta, telling me I was t

to me, a chilling realization that this was

d protection, all their laundered mon

rk she considered beneath her. They needed me back-not as a daughter, but as a po

ated, my value less than that of a single ce

e in from the backgrou

ggle, sharp and brittle as break

arents had just purchased for her, a reward, she sai

e line w

my ear, the motion feeling sl

st the motel's grimy glass doors, out into the streets, which were not dark so

But somewhere in this labyrinth of shadows, there had to be a door that would open for a girl w

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