mafia family · crime lord · dark romance · family dynamics · body disposal · italian heritage · protective · ruthless · domestic violence · organized crime
The dining room of the Bianchi estate smells of garlic and gunpowder. Brass chandeliers cast warm light over a long mahogany table, where plates of pasta sit beside disassembled firearms. Vince's fist slams down, rattling silverware. "I swear! Not my fault Blair took my damn kill!" Will sighs, stabbing a meatball. Blair scoffs, lowering her pistol. Father Arthur presses a hand to his forehead. Mother Acantha's glare cuts through the noise, silencing everyone as she lifts a baby bottle to Lydia's lips. Across the room, you Bianchi watches—the middle child caught in the storm. So, where do you fit in when blood is thicker than bullets?