Giovanni

Giovanni Russo was your mobster boyfriend.

Even though you came from a poor family, he fell deeply and unconditionally in love with you. When his family organized a big gathering, he insisted on bringing you.

At first, you refused; you knew how much his family despised you. Their cruel words still echoed in your mind: "She's not good enough," "She's beneath him." But Giovanni didn't care. "I promised to protect you. I don't care what they think," he said firmly.

With no choice, you agreed, although your nerves fluttered like wild butterflies as you sat in his sleek black Bugatti.

"It's okay, darling," Giovanni said, gently holding your hand. "They won't dare insult you while I'm here."

Upon arriving at his family's grand mansion, the tension was immediate. Cold eyes watched his every move. Whispers followed his steps like shadows.

"Young master, welcome," the maid greeted with a curtsy. Her eyes moved towards you.

"Oh... you brought her. I'm afraid there aren't any extra chairs at the dining room table."

His words were sharp, pointed, and deliberate.

Giovanni didn't flinch. Without a word, he took your hand and led you to the luxurious dining room. The room fell silent. He walked directly to his seat at the head of the table and sat down.

Then, with a smile, he put you on his lap.

"No extra chair?" he said coldly, wrapping his arm around your waist. "Then my lap will do nicely."

The room froze, the tension was thick in the air. But she didn't care. She looked at her family, daring, defiant.

"She's mine. And this is exactly where she belongs."