How Does 'Il Signore Delle Mosche' End?

“Take off your clothes, Ms. Hadley,” “What?” Esme's eyes widened, hearing the mafia don, Luka Salvino. Her cruel boss was supposed to punish her for defying his order but here he was horny for her…. again. The devil before her smirked. “You are my personal assistant here, remember?” He spoke out while loosening his collar. His eyes shamelessly roamed all over her body. “So now I need you to assist me with something extremely personal,” he started opening the buttons of his shirt. Esme's heartbeat accelerated because she knew what kind of sinful assistance he was asking from her and how forbidden it was in his office. “Mr. Salvino, we can't…..” “Get here, woman ... ,” the mafia don growled, making her swallow. ……… Luka Salvino, the cruel mafia don, had always gotten what he wanted. Be it money, power, pleasure or anything, but it was until, his eyes fell on his precious new maid and a single mother, Esme Hadley, who gave him the taste of defiance, denial and disobedience, which infuriated him but at the same time, it made the mafia don crave his precious maid even more to the extent that he broke all the boundaries of madness just to make her as his. But what Luka Salvino didn't know was that his innocent maid was hiding a deep secret from him…that he was the father of her four years old daughter, Elea, and Luka was not even aware of this. So what would happen the moment when the mafia don would find out that he was the biological father of his maid's daughter and she had been keeping his own blood hidden from him for the past five years? Would the Mafia Don forgive her or his desires for her would turn into something more dangerous and diabolic?

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.

Seven years of marriage and Adrian Reeds never once bought his wife a gift. But he spent ten thousand dollars on a diamond bracelet for his secretary. Elise Vitale found it in his jacket pocket on a Tuesday. By Friday she had signed the divorce papers, boarded her private jet and left without a single tear. What Adrian never knew — what nobody in his world knew — was that the quiet, obedient wife he had neglected for seven years was the only daughter and heir of Don Victor Vitale, the most feared mafia boss in the country. She had hidden it to protect him. He had used her silence to humiliate her. Now the gloves were off. Adrian thought divorcing Elise would free him. Instead it started a war he had no weapons for — because the moment Elise walked back through her father's doors, she stopped being a wife and became what she was always born to be. A queen. And queens do not forgive. "You wanted a housewife. Congratulations — you had one. Now meet what I actually am."

I was with a fishmonger for seven years. Every night, he pinned me beneath him, reckless and wild. Until one day, he took off his bloodstained apron and came clean–he was getting engaged to Sophia, the Bilotti heiress. Only then did I learn that he was the Don of the Colleo family. “Hahaha! You fooled around with Ms. Mancini for seven years, only to take another delicate young lady’s hand in marriage. Surely, she’s going to come at you.” “Don Colleo, you should keep things sweet with her.” His men’s laughter echoed in my ears. “What’s the rush? I’ve broken her well enough these past seven years. If you don’t mind, you can have her for a couple of days. Evelyn… flexible.” On the day of Vincent’s engagement party, I handed the evidence of his crimes to the police. As the sirens ripped open the city night, someone called out my name. I smiled and leaped from the eighteenth floor.

I married Don Matteo in secret. Every time he fucked his childhood sweetheart, he promised me a real wedding，in front of the Five Families. For five years, Matteo promised me ninety-nine times. And ninety-nine times, he left me at the altar. The first time, Cecilia’s prize-winning show cat died. To comfort her, he postponed the wedding for three months. I stood at the altar alone, eyes red, trying to calm down the family elders. The second time, Cecilia threw a tantrum at a casino and shattered a hundred-million-dollar antique vase. He diverted the private jet meant for their wedding and rushed through the night to clean up her mess. And every time, right before our wedding, his childhood sweetheart would have some kind of emergency. I cried. I screamed. I even held a gun to his head. But Matteo would just pin me against the wall and shut me up with a cold, hard kiss. “She’s just a fuck. You are Mrs. Falcone. Have some goddamn class.” After the ninety-ninth time, I was finally done. I slid the papers across the table. The ink was still wet, the Falcone family seal stamped at the bottom. “Our marriage, our alliance—it’s over.”

All of Italy knew Kayson Moretti was obsessed with me. He was the untouchable Don of the Moretti family, a man who never lost control in public, yet he broke every rule for me. He declared his love at a gathering of the most powerful mafia families in the country, then bought an entire private island just to build me a glass-domed garden when he proposed. For years, he laid the world at my feet—power, jewels, territory, status. If I wanted something, Kayson didn’t promise it. He made it mine. That was why everyone believed I was the luckiest woman in Italy. They were wrong. Because the same man who swore he would die for me was sleeping with his private secretary behind my back. Worse, he got her pregnant. The day she sent me her ultrasound, their bed photos, and every intimate secret she thought would destroy me, I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I erased every trace I had ever left in his world. My name. My accounts. My records. My past. I staged my death. I let the world believe I had died in a private jet crash.