Kiss for Retribution, A

This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice. The funeral was everything my father would have despised—small, quiet, and attended only by those who genuinely mourned his passing. As I stood beside his mahogany casket, draped in white lilies that seemed to mock the darkness consuming my heart, I felt the weight of every unspoken promise he'd extracted from me in his final days. "Promise me, Isabela," he had whispered through labored breaths, his once-powerful hands trembling as they gripped mine. "Promise me you'll let this vendetta die with me. The Morettis have taken enough from our family." But promises made to dying men are often the hardest to keep, especially when the very people responsible for his suffering stand across the cemetery, their presence a brazen insult to his memory. Vincent Moretti stood beneath the ancient oak tree, his charcoal suit impeccable despite the October rain that had begun to fall. Even from a distance, I could see the sharp angles of his face, the same aristocratic features that had haunted my nightmares for years. He wasn't alone—three men flanked him, their positioning strategic, protective. But it was Vincent who commanded attention, Vincent whose very existence was an affront to everything decent in this world. My fingers tightened around the single red rose I'd brought, its thorns piercing my palm until I felt the warm trickle of blood. The pain was nothing compared to the agony that had consumed me since the night my father's construction company was destroyed, since the night Vincent Moretti's family decided that Carlos Vega was expendable. "Miss Vega?" The funeral director's voice pulled me from my dark reverie. "It's time."