Too Late, Mr. Morano

The year my boyfriend was framed by a rival family and fled to Porto Nero, I followed without looking back.

I lived with him in a three-hundred-dollar basement, lost two children working back-to-back shifts day and night.

When I took a knife for him and nearly lost my life, Dante Morano's tears were scalding.

I gently wiped them away, with only one request.

"When you rise again, will you come to my family and ask for my hand?"

He promised.

Over six years, Dante rebuilt his strength and took down every rival family.