the heart of New York City's concrete jungle, where the echoes of power and danger reverberate through towering skyscrapers, Corinna Da Luca, a luminous presence in the world of shadows, navigates the intricate web of her Mafia lineage. Shielded by...
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Corinna hair and outfit
Her cake
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The golden rays of the morning sun painted the grand halls of the Da Luca mansion as I awoke to the familiar echoes of "Buon compleanno, Piccola Colomba." My father, Lorenzo Da Luca, stood at the threshold of my room, his voice carrying the weight of tradition and familial love. Birthdays in the Da Luca household were more than personal milestones; they were spectacles, grand affairs marked by the essence of our Italian heritage.
"Buon compleanno, Papa," I responded, the words slipping effortlessly from my lips in our shared tongue. The air was filled with the scent of freshly brewed espresso, a comforting backdrop to the sounds of bustling activity that accompanied the morning celebration.
As I descended the ornate staircase, Vinnie, ever the vigilant guardian, greeted me with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, Corinna," he said in English, acknowledging the day with a sense of reverence that mirrored the gravity of our lives.
"Thank you, Vinnie," I replied, a sentiment that extended beyond mere gratitude. With a playful glint in my eye, I leaned in and placed a gentle "bacetto" on his cheek-an intimate gesture reserved for those who stood as protectors in the shadows.
The grand dining room was adorned with rich, burgundy tablecloths and glimmering candles, a nod to the opulence that defined our gatherings. Juni, my cousin, radiated feminine allure as she shot me a mischievous grin. "Happy birthday, Corinna," she teased, her words carrying a playful cadence.
