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Chapter 24

Gabriele Colombo had never been a man shaped by tenderness.

He was born into blood—into a world where lullabies were replaced with gunfire, and bedtime stories ended in betrayal. By the time he was twelve, he had seen more corpses than birthdays. By eighteen, he had learned that power didn’t come from God or luck—it came from fear. Cruelty wasn’t a habit. It was survival.

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Sonam Kandalgaonkar

Pro
I write heroines who are curvy, plus size, simple, or plain because beauty has never been about one perfect standard. Beauty is always in the eyes of the beholder. A woman does not need society’s approval to deserve love, obsession, respect, and a powerful story.