Title: Shattered Hopes
Series: Letters of Ruin
Author: Addy Anders
Genre/Tropes: Mafia Romance; Forbidden Romance; Enemies-to-Lovers; Age Gap of 13 years; Touch Her and Die; Revenge/Redemption; Found Family; Strong Heroine; Slow Burn; Virgin FMC; Angsty; Penpal
Release Date: February 23, 2026
He stole my brother. So, I stole his freedom…There’s a villain in all of us.
I just never realized that until the worst day of my life.
It started with a sandwich from a stranger—an act of kindness that was nothing more than a veneer to hide the devil behind the mask.
Renzo Iannelli took everything from me that day. My family. My life. My future.
I wasn’t even a blip on his radar when he made me an orphan—left alone to be bruised and abused in foster care—all for the sake of his revenge.
Well, he got his. Now, I’m going to get mine.
No matter how long it takes, no matter what I have to sacrifice, I will make him rue the day he destroyed my life.
But the world is never black and white, and there are far more heartless monsters closing in around me.
So what happens when the devil I know becomes the only person I can trust?
He was my downfall.
I never expected him to also be my redemption.
**This book spans over eight years and is divided into three parts: then, letters, and now. During the “then” portion of this book, the main female character, Ainsley, is a minor. As a disclaimer, there is absolutely no romantic interaction during that portion of the book. However, this section is crucial to the development of their romance later on.
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The first time I met Renzo Iannelli was the day Noah died.
I hadn’t known Noah was dead at the time. All I knew was that my brother was missing. He didn’t come home, didn’t go to his second job of the day, and didn’t answer his phone or check in on social media.
Renzo Iannelli—though I didn’t know it was him—approached me, slouched as I was against a corridor wall at the busy police station with my arms wrapped tight around my growling stomach.
“Are you lost, piccola?”
Such a simple question. Almost kind, delivered in a bass, nearly apathetic voice that seemed to mute the surrounding conversations and the nonstop ringing phones. It was so rich and deep that it reminded me of creamy chocolate on a hot day. Dreamy, but the man himself…he made my teenage brain fire in all directions. I didn’t even realize guys like that existed outside of movies.
He had to be in his mid-twenties, towering over me by a good head and a half, every inch of his face defined and strong. His jaw was all hard angles with prominent cheekbones. Thick eyebrows framed cold emerald eyes, gleaming with different shades of green. Man, I wished mine were that color instead of wet dirt.
His suit looked crisper and finer than the ones my dad used to wear, giving him that over-the-top refined image, broken only by the tattoos covering his hands, from his knuckles to the tips of his sleeves. A few also crawled up his neck over his dress shirt collar. A gaudy gold ring decorated one of his hands, with diamonds encrusted around the band, and a large but delicate pendant hung from a thick gold chain around his neck. Whoever this guy was, his look practically screamed, “Wealthy and perilous, pay attention.”
“You shouldn’t wander off in a place like this.” He spoke without even glancing at me.
I eyed both ends of the corridor. Neither wait line had moved up. “Doesn’t look so dangerous.”
“Danger always lurks where you least expect it.”
As if to emphasize the dangers of starvation, my stomach picked that moment to growl as comically loud as a cartoon character’s burp. I squeezed my stomach, my face flaming, eyes wide and glued to the grout lines between the tile at my feet.
“Eat.” My good-looking stranger held out a sandwich in front of me.
Steak, cheese, cooked onions, peppers—the smells made my mouth water. Plus, I recognized the logo on the wrapper. I loved that Italian deli place. Mom and Dad used to take me there every Friday after school. Noah and I kept up the tradition but only once a month. I licked my lips, hesitating. Taking food from a random stranger always seemed like the start of a really bad kidnapping story. But…we were in a police station. It’s not like he could do much of anything to me here, with all these cops, right?
“Why?”
“If you starve, it’ll be your choice, not mine.”
Excerpt 2:
I thought he hadn’t seen me. I hoped he hadn’t. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing, but he had, and now Boyan was exposed to him too.
“Cool car.” Boyan’s little voice trilled with excitement and awe as he squirmed out of my hold. His head peeked through the shotgun window. “Whoa. Anzy, it’s blue. Blue like Sally. Mister, that’s a girl’s car.”
I sucked my chuckle back in where it belonged and pinched my lips together. Still, a grimaced smile crept up my face from the shock on Renzo Iannelli’s.
“It’s not,” the outraged mafia man stated.
“Yes, it is.”
“Is not.”
“Is.
“Not.”
“Is.”
“Are you seriously arguing with a five-year-old right now?” I ridiculed.
“I win.” Boyan tossed his little arms in the air. The sleeves of his size seven shirt on his five-year-old frame slipped down to his shoulders, exposing the wrinkled, scarred skin on his left shoulder and bicep.
Iannelli cleared his throat, his fist wrestling the steering wheel. “Get in the damn car.”
“Language,” I snapped back, mockingly covering Boyan’s ears before he wiggled away. Honestly, the little chipmunk probably knew more curse words than polite vocabulary at this point.
Renzo Iannelli’s jaw clenched, and the veins along his neck popped out. Totally worth it. Jerkwad. His eyes death-glared at me, a silent dare to continue defying him. I almost did. Pissing him off gave me the same high as a slice of black forest cake—so freaking delicious—but I wanted a car ride more.
I hadn’t known Noah was dead at the time. All I knew was that my brother was missing. He didn’t come home, didn’t go to his second job of the day, and didn’t answer his phone or check in on social media.
Renzo Iannelli—though I didn’t know it was him—approached me, slouched as I was against a corridor wall at the busy police station with my arms wrapped tight around my growling stomach.
“Are you lost, piccola?”
Such a simple question. Almost kind, delivered in a bass, nearly apathetic voice that seemed to mute the surrounding conversations and the nonstop ringing phones. It was so rich and deep that it reminded me of creamy chocolate on a hot day. Dreamy, but the man himself…he made my teenage brain fire in all directions. I didn’t even realize guys like that existed outside of movies.
He had to be in his mid-twenties, towering over me by a good head and a half, every inch of his face defined and strong. His jaw was all hard angles with prominent cheekbones. Thick eyebrows framed cold emerald eyes, gleaming with different shades of green. Man, I wished mine were that color instead of wet dirt.
His suit looked crisper and finer than the ones my dad used to wear, giving him that over-the-top refined image, broken only by the tattoos covering his hands, from his knuckles to the tips of his sleeves. A few also crawled up his neck over his dress shirt collar. A gaudy gold ring decorated one of his hands, with diamonds encrusted around the band, and a large but delicate pendant hung from a thick gold chain around his neck. Whoever this guy was, his look practically screamed, “Wealthy and perilous, pay attention.”
“You shouldn’t wander off in a place like this.” He spoke without even glancing at me.
I eyed both ends of the corridor. Neither wait line had moved up. “Doesn’t look so dangerous.”
“Danger always lurks where you least expect it.”
As if to emphasize the dangers of starvation, my stomach picked that moment to growl as comically loud as a cartoon character’s burp. I squeezed my stomach, my face flaming, eyes wide and glued to the grout lines between the tile at my feet.
“Eat.” My good-looking stranger held out a sandwich in front of me.
Steak, cheese, cooked onions, peppers—the smells made my mouth water. Plus, I recognized the logo on the wrapper. I loved that Italian deli place. Mom and Dad used to take me there every Friday after school. Noah and I kept up the tradition but only once a month. I licked my lips, hesitating. Taking food from a random stranger always seemed like the start of a really bad kidnapping story. But…we were in a police station. It’s not like he could do much of anything to me here, with all these cops, right?
“Why?”
“If you starve, it’ll be your choice, not mine.”
Excerpt 2:
I thought he hadn’t seen me. I hoped he hadn’t. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing, but he had, and now Boyan was exposed to him too.
“Cool car.” Boyan’s little voice trilled with excitement and awe as he squirmed out of my hold. His head peeked through the shotgun window. “Whoa. Anzy, it’s blue. Blue like Sally. Mister, that’s a girl’s car.”
I sucked my chuckle back in where it belonged and pinched my lips together. Still, a grimaced smile crept up my face from the shock on Renzo Iannelli’s.
“It’s not,” the outraged mafia man stated.
“Yes, it is.”
“Is not.”
“Is.
“Not.”
“Is.”
“Are you seriously arguing with a five-year-old right now?” I ridiculed.
“I win.” Boyan tossed his little arms in the air. The sleeves of his size seven shirt on his five-year-old frame slipped down to his shoulders, exposing the wrinkled, scarred skin on his left shoulder and bicep.
Iannelli cleared his throat, his fist wrestling the steering wheel. “Get in the damn car.”
“Language,” I snapped back, mockingly covering Boyan’s ears before he wiggled away. Honestly, the little chipmunk probably knew more curse words than polite vocabulary at this point.
Renzo Iannelli’s jaw clenched, and the veins along his neck popped out. Totally worth it. Jerkwad. His eyes death-glared at me, a silent dare to continue defying him. I almost did. Pissing him off gave me the same high as a slice of black forest cake—so freaking delicious—but I wanted a car ride more.
Addy Anders writes romance meant to tug hard on your heartstrings and never let go. Her books deliver deliciously possessive anti-heroes, strong heroines, a touch of angst to set you on edge, and a cocktail of spice.Addy loves to travel, preferably outside of major cities. When she’s not writing or out in the wilderness, she can be found with her kindle and a very large cup of tea surrounded by her very supportive husband, two kiddos, and two fur babies.
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