Zoey Richardson
A treasured social elite or a criminal Cleopatra?
A cunning young woman or simply a lucky naive girl?
Widower or murderess?
Traitor or victim?
Duality had always played a role in this authentically zealous woman's life. On the out...
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It was a strangely sunny day in London. But Zoey appreciated the bright backdrop, letting her dainty fingers dance against the cool currents of wind, her eyes peering up to the freshly painted blue skies through her sunglasses.
It was September 1921, summer had come to a close, and with it came great clarity.
Zoey Richardson, well Sabini for now- had been a constant pawn in the London Underworld's game of chess. Under the control of the most sadistic gangsters in the south known as the 'torture gang'. But they weren't headline hunters, they preferred not to go for social gains but rather stay financially focused, keeping out of the economic and political power play- that's why they needed the Sabini's.
So after an entire childhood of being exploited, her strings pulled in every direction except her own, she was unwillingly walked down the ail at 19 to a man twice her age- Antony Sabini, the eldest and cruelest cousin who ran Little Italy and most of London.
It had been two years since that day. And she had suffered relentlessly each day since. Antony took pleasure in taking things from her, controlling everything from what she wore to what she ate and whom she spoke to. The more she rebelled the more he stomped on her soul and crushed her.
But in the spring of 1920, he hurt her for the last time. Finding her in bed with one of her bodyguards, whom she had happened to have fallen for. Sam Marcello, was the only slice of heaven in her hell- but like everything that belonged to her, he was ripped away. Brutally beaten to death right before her eyes.
After that, she wasn't the same. At first, she was overcome with melancholy, days merged into one knowing nothing but heartache and desperation.
And then one day she sat in that glamourous dining room, filled with golden chandeliers and red velvet drapes. Looking down at that long table filled with gangsters, aristocrats, politicians, and anyone who cared more for power than people, all rubbing elbows like they often did. And at the center of it, her eyes met his, before they turned onto his mistress sat by his side giggling at something he'd whispered in her ear.
