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The definition of hate is Dante Romano.
Hate never tasted so good.


Isabella

I thought I was finally free from a life filled with hatred and pain.
Tomorrow my life was going to start when I graduated from Eden Manners Academy for childcare, and under the terms of my grandmother’s will I could collect my millions at the door.
There was no money at the door—just him.
Dante Romano.
He was not alone.
A little boy, his mirror image, his son.
I wonder what brave woman took this man on because this man is a god.
He is untouchable and as I stare, the little boy looks at me through those same soulless eyes and it breaks my heart.
He’s lost, they are lost, and even though I’ve just met them, it’s like a painting of an artist who lost control. It’s messy, violent, all over the place but so beautiful it takes my breath away—a masterpiece, father & son.
I was so close to my freedom, but my grandmother dealt a painful blow from the grave.
Work for one year after graduation before the money could be mine.
I never got a choice. He made me an offer I tried to refuse, work for him or die.
I’ve been bullied before, but they were nothing like him.
Dante Romano is the definition of hate and as it turned out, that was the least of my problems.

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