What Happened To Boss Tweed In The End?

The wedding had been postponed ninety-nine times. I called the wedding planner and told them to change the bride's name to Ivy Sterling, Charles Hart's childhood sweetheart. "Donna, are you sure?" the planner asked cautiously. "This time, the Don didn't postpone again." I heard the surprise in his voice. My answer was calm. "Yes. Change it to Ivy Sterling." From the very beginning, Charles gave only one instruction for the wedding: "Adjust the decorations according to Ivy's taste." He explained that Ivy had good taste, that she would only serve as a reference for our wedding. But every choice, the flowers, the favors, the entrance music, was made by Ivy. Even my wedding dress. She had said lightly, "A mermaid silhouette suits her better." So I decided to give the entire wedding, steeped in her presence, to them. And I walked away from this farce completely. From now on, let him keep his old dreams. I will go and enjoy my own boundless sky.

The second day after I was transferred back to Los Angeles, I ran into someone I used to know on a street corner. She stepped right in front of me, eyes going wide. “Mia? Mia Rossi? Why would you come back now? Dante's marrying Camille at the cathedral in a week.” Dante was my first love, and also the youngest heir to a mafia dynasty on this side of the Atlantic. He'd made me a promise once: that he'd make the entire Moretti family kneel and welcome me in. We had a deal: the day he officially took over as Don would be the day he married me. But his family had other plans. They arranged a match for him: Camille, a princess from one of Sicily's five great families. Pure bloodline, the genuine article. At first, Dante swore up and down she meant nothing to him. Less than nothing. Then I started noticing how he looked at her. Softer every time. Like he was falling. One night, riding home after a shift at the bar, Camille's car came out of nowhere and took me down. The gas tank caught, and half the block reeked of burning rubber and scorched metal. I was pinned under the wreckage, blood seeping from the back of my skull down my neck, warm at first, then cold. Dante was the first one there. He beat the ambulance. The first thing he did was walk past me. He crouched down, lifted Camille out of the passenger seat, and didn't look at me once, just dropped a few words over his shoulder: “I already called an ambulance. Hang tight. Camille's had too much to drink. I need to get her home.” That was the moment I was done with him. Completely, finally done. While he was gone, I discharged myself. I bought the farthest plane ticket I could find that same night and left without looking back. Five years passed. “Mia, you have no idea.” The woman grabbed my wrist, dropping her voice. “Dante spent years turning half of Europe upside down looking for you. You came back at the right time. He still keeps a seat for you every month on his birthday. Camille's too proud for a lot of things,

“You're mine now, Brittany.” He whispered in my ears. I froze. I don't remember telling him my name. Zayne…Zayne…oh God. Now, I remember why his name sounded so familiar…but it was too late, I thought as I lost consciousness. __ Brittany's life has been full of heartbreaks and pain, from her father's death to her mother's manipulation and abuse, while using religion as a weapon. She grews up with fear, guarding her virginity like a cloak because of her mother's constant words in her ears. Until she meets Zayne, known throughout New York as the CEO for his ruthlessness, he turns out to be Mafia too. Zayne claims her as his refusing to let her go. Will Brittany grow to love him and give him a chance after what he did to her? What happens when she's the only one who can save him from enemies flocking around him? __ “I'm letting you go, doll.” He mumbled as he held on to me, his eyes growing weak. My heart twisted in my chest as tears fell down my cheeks. No… “I don't regret a thing. You taking me was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Vito Rizzuto was the Don of Sicily. He had it all: power, respect, and the certainty that the mountain was his fortress. But on a cold dawn, everything was stripped from him. Betrayed, captured, and thrown into the stone tomb of Asinara, the former Boss is now ruined, his hands bound by chains made not of iron, but of revenge. Now, the Don is forced to make a pact with his enemies: to become a deep throat to destroy those who framed him. Three hours of fresh air a day is the only freedom granted to weave his web. Revenge is not a cold dish. It is a blaze that will consume the island. And if they think the Don is finished, they have not understood that in prison, the man died... but the Boss was born.

Andrès was accused of murdering his boss. The boss of the company he and his wife works for. He was shocked by the accusation and betrayal of his wife and best friend but there was nothing he could do to prove his innocence because the CCTV footage in his boss’ office caught him serving his boss the tea that was spiked. He was tired in court and was given a life sentence for the murder of his boss’ death. Eventually, fate was on his side and he got out earlier than he ever imagined. Upon his return, he found out that his wife got married to his best friend. Driven by rage, he began working for a cartel and soon climbed the ladder, becoming the most ruthless Mafia boss. To some people, he is legendary and a ghost lord. With vengeance in his heart, he is out for blood. Go with me on this journey, to know what happens in this twisted triangle… Will ya?

Grant, the heir to the Bennett family, had been my protector for over a decade. He taught me how to fire my first shot and saved me from every attempt on my life. After someone slipped drugs into Grant's drink at the family gathering, he stumbled into my room, and his icy control shattered. His hands found my waist as he pulled me close, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered my name. A single night of drugged passion left me pregnant with his child. When my twin sister, Claire, found out, she left a note and disappeared, heartbroken. After that, I was cast as the cold-hearted villain who drove her own sister away. Grant personally forced the contraceptive potion down my throat and exiled me to the lawless territories beyond our family's control. To make me atone, he abandoned me to fend for myself in that desolate land. I was eventually killed in the crossfire of a mob war. As I lay dying, my mind was flooded with memories of Grant. The troublemaker he always called me was finally gone. He must have been relieved. When I next opened my eyes, I had returned to the morning after that disastrous night. This time, without hesitation, I drank the contraceptive potion myself.