Too Late: The Don's Regretful Pursuit

future Ma

so deeply that he thought I

his hand on the thigh of the

ed me from behind, mercilessly mocking the loser: "Mr. Wells, do

his fiancée

s betrayed befo

ted me time and time again,

gement ring in

release you from your vow. I h

back to find his own shadow, I had already le

ed me from behind, mercilessly mocking the loser: "Mr. Wells, do

pte

the heirloom emeralds around my neck marking me as the futur

w York-had his hand resting possessively on

n't his

wa

inating the scene with a cruel clarity. Jax Viles, the man who could silence a room w

gigg

ated against the heavy silence of the

. I had been trained for this since birth. As the daughter of the Consigliere, co

at was the official story. But guests don't sit at the Don's right hand. Guests don't wear

sy meticulously cutting Catalina's steak for h

tely at his plate, his jaw tight enough to snap. The Capos shifted i

g my humiliation, and Jax was orchestrating it with the casual i

udin

d cut his palm with a pocket knife, mixed his blood with mine, and

the one hold

nce. His voice was deep, a rumble that usually sett

the

k up. He was

the fine wool of his sleeve. He pulled away instantly, as

il hit me harde

r him, my movements m

nomous thing. "Thank you, Eliana. You're

went death

mother of his heirs, the woman who held the codes to the family tru

d. "She knows h

urned to lea

against the marble floor, a scream of wood

ne. They were dark, void of the warmth they used to hold. Th

as steady. It was a lie, but in this life,

gh. I felt their eyes on my back. I felt the weight of t

om. His bedroom. The room I was suppo

ws, mirroring the storm that should have been

rdly recognizing the woman staring back. I unclasped t

rk wood of his desk,

resignation letter wri

r erupted. His laug

d the lock with a definitive click. I didn't cry

d no