Where Can I Read Bartolomeo One Piece Novel Online?

I watched my family scrape and starve so I could save enough to come to Sicily for a tan, a fling, maybe my first proper kiss— maybe even lose my virginity to a hot stranger I’d never see again. I did not come to wrestle a kidnapped toddler out of a speedboat at gunpoint. One minute I was hiding from a flirty Italian on the beach. The next, I was running barefoot across the sand in a bikini with a terrified little boy in my arms… while men in black suits shot at me. Now the whole island thinks I’m the kidnapper. Especially the grey-eyed man with the gun who looks at me like I’m his next target. I don’t know his name. I don’t know who the boy really belongs to. I just know the man hunting me isn’t a hero and he’s not going to let me walk away. If I survive this holiday, I’m never leaving England again. If he stops looking at me like that… I might even miss the danger. Holy hell. I didn’t just grab any child. I snatched the heir to the Don of the most ruthless mafia outfit in Europe. And his best friend—the grey-eyed man with the gun—wants my head on a spike. I never imagined I’d die a virgin. But here I am.

In my previous life, I married the Underboss of the Marino family to forge an alliance between our mafia families. However, he treated me with nothing but cold indifference. In the end, he conspired with his mistress and left me to burn alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was 22 years old once more. I was back at that party where he had locked me out for her sake. This time, I did not cry. I simply turned and walked away. I tore up our marriage contract myself, built my own fashion empire, and met a man who actually respected and loved me. The irony of it all? The same man who once threw me away like garbage now chased after me like a mad dog, desperate to fix what he had broken. "Rosalie, just come back with me now and I'll pretend none of this ever happened!" His eyes were bloodshot as he begged. I looked at him and laughed. What happened could not be erased just because he wanted it to be. In this lifetime, I would bask in the sunlight and live just for myself.

Before the day of my husband's succession as the Don, my stepsister personally tattooed the "Inverted Angel's Eye"—the mark of a traitor—onto my back. My husband didn't just turn a blind eye; when the family vendetta broke out, he withdrew all the elite guards to protect my "pregnant" stepsister, leaving me alone in a defenseless city to face the slaughter.  "Elena, you are strong enough to protect yourself. But Sophia is fragile, and she is carrying my firstborn. She needs the protection more than you." Facing a siege of heavy firepower, I survived by the skin of my teeth. He thought I would swallow the insult for the sake of the family's reputation. He didn't expect that I would kick open the doors of his coronation ceremony wearing mourning weeds, flanked by the FBI and the Commission, and personally strip him of his title. "Goodbye, Lorenzo. This time, I choose to be the Don."

The top-tier charity auction in Manhattan is about to begin when my boyfriend’s stepsister spots a pearl necklace she likes. Wanting to buy it as her birthday gift, my boyfriend reserves a bidding seat. But due to a mistake by the organizers, the seat had actually been reserved by someone else before he booked it. An elderly lady dressed plainly says the seat is hers, yet they show no intention of yielding. I force my boyfriend to give the seat back to the woman. But Amy storms out in a fit of anger. That night, gunshots echo through the neighborhood. A stray bullet hits her, and she bleeds out on the spot. He calmly arranges her funeral, yet still keeps his promise and marries me. Soon after, my father dies in what is ruled an accident. On the day of my father’s funeral, he storms into the church with his men. Looking at me kneeling before the coffin, he smiles arrogantly. “Olivia, this is what you owe Amy! If you hadn’t stopped me that day, the seat would’ve been hers! She wouldn’t have run out in anger, and she wouldn’t have been shot! Let me tell you something—your father was killed by me. And now it’s your turn!” Right in front of everyone, he shoots my younger brother—who had been kneeling beside me, begging for mercy—dead with a single bullet. His bodyguards pin me down and drag me out of the church as I watch helplessly, his blood pooling before my father’s coffin. When I open my eyes again, my boyfriend is glaring angrily at the waiter, about to explode. What he doesn’t know is that the plainly dressed old woman in sunglasses is the mother of the current Don of the most powerful Mafia family in New York—the Morretti family. And that Don is famously devoted to his mother.

It is said that Marco Colombo, the heir of the Colombo family of Chiron, is holding a wedding for his mistress, Gina Bilotti, today. The scale is ten times grander than when he marries Isabella Pratico in a political union. I lean against the ebony railing on the second floor. Sipping my red wine, I watch the lively scene of clinking glasses and mingling guests below with quiet amusement. Gina is definitely favored—she is even wearing a ruby necklace. One should know that set of ruby jewelry is an heirloom of the Colombo family. It is something only the Donna and the wife of the heir are allowed to wear. "You must be Isabella, the one Marco who does not love." A voice suddenly comes from beside me. I turn my head and see the woman wearing the ruby necklace before me. Gina has come up to the second floor at some point and is now looking at me with a cunning smile on her face. I freeze for a moment, not yet able to respond. She suddenly grabs my hand and yanks it hard toward herself. There is a sharp tearing sound, and the hem of her wedding dress rips open with a long tear. Gina lets out a cry, and tears immediately stream down her face. "Mrs. Colombo, why did you tear my wedding dress? Marco specially commissioned this from an independent designer just for our wedding! "If you really cannot tolerate my presence, then I will break up with Marco today and leave Chiron…" The surrounding guests all lift their heads and glare at me angrily. I am stunned because I am not Isabella. I am the new wife of Marco's father, the woman of the current Don, and the Donna of the Colombo family.

My mafia fiancé and I had planned to watch the World Cup together in the United States. But on the day of departure, I waited at the airport for three hours, and Giovanni never showed up. It was only when night fell that my phone finally rang. "Sorry, Bianca," he said, his tone as casual as ever. "I forgot to tell you. Carina was so excited to watch the World Cup, she couldn't sleep last night. So I took her ahead. We just landed." He paused for a moment. "You can make your own way here. We'll see you at the stadium tomorrow." I stood frozen. I had been looking forward to this World Cup for so long. We were supposed to take our wedding photos in Hawaii after the match. Yet with a single casual word from his childhood sweetheart, I was left behind. He had no idea that I had even turned down two major deals worth hundreds of millions just to be with him. After a long silence, I let out a soft laugh. "I don't want to go anymore. You two have fun." The next day, I came across Carina's social media post. In the photo, she stood arm in arm with Giovanni beside Messi, both of them smiling brightly. The caption read: "Thanks to Giovanni for getting me a photo with Messi! You never miss any important moment in my life." I calmly liked the post, then made a phone call. "Cancel the wedding in two weeks." I was done with this relationship. Time to go back to being a principessa.