Mag-log inRebecca Downhill (Becca) is the daughter of Robert Downhill, a ruthless mafia member, an abusive husband and a violent father. She has been raised knowing that her only purpose is to sacrifice herself for the family so her father arranges her marriage to Lucas Tate in change of 40% from one of Lucas’s businesses. For his plans to work Lucas becomes himself part of the mafia and one of the most dangerous and feared man in NY. Soon Roberts finds out about the fake business and wants to take Becca back and probably use her for a next bargain. Lucas tries to make Becca seem unimportant to him or to her family to divert enemies attention but he hurts Becca in the process and she decides to run away after Lucas refuses the divorce. Her destiny brings her in the hands of Enzo, the youngest soon of Italian mafia head, Marciano Benito, and who tries to take her away from NY, from Lucas and another new rival to Becca’s heart, Salvatore Benito, his elder brother. After six months spent in Italy, when she finds out Enzo has lied to her, Becca decides to come back to NY to regain the business of her father and the love of Lucas. The secrets of her family come to surface and she tries to use them to keep away Salvatore but before she does that, Lucas is kidnaped and held in a warehouse by Salvatore. He is declared missing in an explosion of the warehouse but Becca refused to believe him dead, always hoping he will come back to her and their daughter she gave birth to six months after explosion. Lucas comes back four years later to a happy end next to his wife and his daughter. *Republished after draft editing*
view more(Becca)An awfully bright light was piercing through my eyelids. If this was heaven, it was painful. And then again, how could I have got in heaven? I killed. Myself. And my child.I tried to turn my face away from the burning light but couldn't get rid of it. I lifted my hands to cover my face hoping to open my eyes and see where I was. But I fe
(Becca)Eyes closed, fists clenched, I take a deep breath, the morning sun warming up my face through the bedroom's window. I never wake up early and I never open the curtains. I am usually lingering in bed till late morning, partly hoping that if I stay still, I will stop breathing and it will all be over, partly because of the soreness between my thighs. Every night is a like rape, worse than yesterday and less than tomorrow.





