Rosie's Thorns 🥀|18+|🥀

10 | Pretend

(Bigger Person ~ Lauren Spencer Smith)

《¤Rosie¤》

New money.

Old money.

Did it really matter where it came from? The Costa name comes from both. Generations built the empire it is now, built it on blood, bodies, betrayal, and pure evil. My blood runs cold whenever I'm reminded of what my ancestors did to obtain their wealth and power.

Human trafficking.

Enslaved children working the warehouses.

Women drugged and used for their bodies.

People slaughtered to gain power.

Countless deaths...

Blood taints the money produced from my ancestors greed. It taints the Costa name in a way my father tried desperately to wash clean. He shut down the human trafficking, limited the death count, and released the captive children working in unsanitary conditions.

Rivera was one of them. My father took him in long before having any children of his own. The story says Rivera was so grateful to be free, he indebted himself to my father. Whether or not that's true, I can't say.

Armando Costa did away with the vile ways of his father and forefathers. He reestablished and rebranded the Costa name. He mingled with the upper class men, made business investments, and sought out partners that could help him distribute and obtain drugs, weapons, money, and property without raising the alarm bells of law enforcement.

These partners got a small fraction of the profit made from using their companies or brands to distribute their illegal goods. If Armando felt extra generous, he'd give them a sampling of his finest cocaine and any other addictive substances my father could get his hands on. These silent business partners were almost always secret drug addicts looking for their next fix. My father saw it as an opportunity and used their addictions to weasel his way into restaurants, hotels, and distribution warehouses. Most were big name companies that had everything to lose if the public and authorities were to find out of their illegal conduct and substance abuse. Armando used this against them if they ever tried to back out of contract.

New or old money, it doesn't change generations of corruption.

Their legacy of evil falls on my shoulders. Does it make me evil sharing the name Costa? Does it make me evil to be the new Donna?

My heart thumps inside of my head as a migraine threatens to make me nauseous. A pulse resides behind my eyes, making them burn from the sun casting in from the large sliding glass doors that look out onto the busy New York streets. Multiple men pass back and forth in front of me, carrying most of my belongings to the right wing of the penthouse. My kitchen appliances were scattered across the once bare marble top counters, and three large totes of books sat beside a newly erected shelving unit by his L shaped couch in the open floored living room.

Whether Rivera liked it or not, he didn't say anything. He eyed my belongings invading his personal space and screwed his mouth shut in a grimace.

Maybe it's too much, but I didn't want to share any of our cookware. I wanted everything to remain as separated as possible. I'd find a cabinet and drawer for all my belongings and give him the rest of the kitchen. I was even planning on using my mini fridge in my room to store my food.