Chapter 23 Lia
LIA
Ipush him off.
He takes a step back without a word. My hands tremble as I pull down the nightgown he just had his hands under. My legs are unsteady, my mind scattered. I don’t look at him again. I can’t.
Instead, I turn around and run.
I slip through the halls like a thief, hoping no one hears the soft thud of my bare feet. My dress is wrinkled, and my body is damp in places it shouldn’t be.
The hallway back to my room is empty and quiet. The night air is cold, but my body is still burning. From shame. From the burning desire I can’t control whenever I’m around him.
How does he do that to me? How does he make everything in my head disappear the second he touches me?
For those minutes in the dark, when his mouth was on my core and his hands were everywhere, I forgot about everything.
Marco. The Society. The baby. My father.
My escape. All of it disappeared into thin air.
All I cared about was him, the way he touched me, kissed me, and fucked me.
I didn’t even check if someone was watching.
I didn’t care about anything.
What’s wrong with me?
I slam the door to my room shut behind me and lean against it, breathing hard. My heart won’t stop racing. My fingers dig into my arms like I’m trying to hold myself together.
Maybe they were right.
Maybe the maids who spat foul words at me and the aunts who judged me were right. Maybe I am exactly what they think. A whore. A stupid, easy girl who opens her legs for the first man who shows her a little attention.
No. I shake my head. That’s not true. I am not who they say I am.
But the feeling in my gut says otherwise. I feel dirty and cheap, like I gave away something sacred without even thinking. Like I betrayed myself. My father. Marco.
And worst of all, I still want him.
I press my palms to my face and groan. God, what is happening to me?
When I finally pull my hands away, there’s someone standing in the room.
Marco is leaning against the opposite wall, his arms crossed on his chest like he’s been waiting for me.
My breath catches.
His eyes rake over me once, and I imagine what he sees. My flushed skin. My trembling hands. The uneven breathing. And worst of all, the guilt on my face.
He doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me. He looks calm, but his eyes are filled with something sharp and dark.
“I knocked,” he says flatly. “You didn’t answer, so I let myself in thinking that something was wrong.”
I swallow. Marco granted me my own room because he didn’t want to rush me. He wanted me to have my privacy; he wanted me to ease naturally into my position as his fiancée.
And this is how I pay him back.
I swallow hard. My stomach twists. “I was… I went for a walk.”
He tilts his head, still watching me.
I glance away, walking deeper into the room and pretending I’m not scared. Pretending I’m not unraveling inside. But he doesn’t move. He just keeps watching me, and somehow that makes me feel even worse.
“You went for a walk in the dark? With no shoes?”
I glance down at my bare feet.
“Try again,” he says in a low voice.
“I like to walk barefoot sometimes,” I mutter, and his sharp, humorless laugh makes my back stiffen.
“Don’t insult my intelligence, Lia,” he says, prowling toward me. He steps into me, close enough that I have to tilt my head back. “I know you’re lying. I know exactly who you were with.”
My pulse jumps. “You don’t know anything,” I say, feeling the need to defend myself, even though I know it’s useless at this point.
“I know my brother’s been walking around like a madman for days. And now you come back looking like this?” His jaw clenches. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you didn’t just let him take you in some dark corner like his dirty little secret?”
My nostrils flare as I push his chest, trying to get him away from me, but he grabs my wrist. His grip is not rough, but it’s strong enough to hold me still.
“Let me go, Marco.”
“Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me he didn’t fuck you.”
I flinch at his harsh tone, but I don’t say anything.
That’s enough of an answer for him.
He releases my hand roughly, walks over to the nearest wall, and drives his fist into it.
“Marco—”
“Of course, he did.” His laugh is bitter and cruel. “Francesco always gets what he wants.”
I don’t know if I should move toward or away from him, so I remain rooted where I am.
“Marco, please…”
“You think he loves you?” His voice cracks slightly. “You think Francesco’s going to save you? Protect you? He can’t even protect himself.”
His eyes are burning now. Not just with jealousy, but something darker. Something obsessive. I feel it in my chest like a warning bell.
“I would have given you everything!” he growls. “All you had to do was choose me.”
“I don’t have to choose anyone,” I manage to say, even though my heart is pounding wildly. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“You think what you want matters? You think it’s your decision to make? That you have a say?”
My mouth opens, but no words leave my lips. I’ve never seen Marco this way before. This is not the same man who makes me laugh, makes me feel safe, and lets me cry on his shoulders.
He marches toward me and grabs my chin in his hands.
“You don’t get to pick who you want, Lia,” he grunts. “You are mine! You either choose me out of your own will… or you don’t. Either way, I’m the man you end up with.”
Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I force myself to keep them at bay.
“Why are you doing this, Marco?”
He lets go of my face and backs up.
“Because I’m not the one who gets chosen,” he mutters. “I never have been. Not once.”
His eyes aren’t just angry now; they’re wounded, like he’s been holding something in too long, and tonight, it’s splitting open. His hand runs through his hair, and for the first time, I notice how tired he looks.
“Everything was always about him. Francesco, the golden heir. Francesco, the future Don. Francesco, who could do whatever the fuck he wanted and still walk around with his head high because everyone respected him.”
He turns sharply, eyes on me again. “But me? I grew up in his shadows. I’ve had to work for every scrap of respect I get. I’ve had to be careful and strategic to get whatever I want. I’ve had to be patient, to wait for whatever I want while he thinks he can just—”
“Wait for what?” I cut him off.
“For you!” He exclaims. “For this. Don’t you see, Lia? You’re the key.”
My stomach drops. “The key to what?”
He steps closer again, lowering his voice. “The key to everything I’ve always wanted.”
His demeanor changes as his eyes graze over my body.
“You think I was willing to live in my brother’s shadow for the rest of my life?” He chuckles, and I use the opportunity to take a step back from him.
“One thing about always getting what you want is that you start to get careless. So while he was busy chasing you around and getting his dick wet, I was getting the real work done.”
I shake my head at him, unable to fathom that the man I thought I knew is the same person saying all this.
“I found your father’s journal—”
A shocked breath leaves my lips, and he laughs at that.
“You weren’t as sly as you thought. In fact, you helped me get exactly what I needed. You led me to that secret compartment. You helped me find the journal…”
Anger burns through my veins. “You—”
“I borrowed your ring when you were in the shower—after that day in the cellar when I scared you. I took it then. I made sure you wouldn’t read it for longer; I didn’t want you finding out something that could help you escape me, something that could ruin my plan.
But now, everything is in place; I might just tell you what he wrote there. ”
I remain silent.
“Your father wasn’t just a man caught in the wrong fight. He was onto something bigger. He found something in La Mano Nera’s past, something they’ve buried for centuries. The prophecy.”
My mouth goes dry. “What prophecy?”
He leans in, his eyes burning. “A child—born of rare blood. One that could unravel everything the Society has built… or become the key to its absolute power.”
I step back. “You think my baby—”
“I know it,” he interrupts. “You’re not just carrying Francesco’s mistake, Lia. You’re carrying my opportunity.”
Everything freezes.
“What did you just say?”
He exhales hard. “I had to act fast and smart. I had to do something that would force me into a position of power. If the Society sees me as the protector of the prophetic child, if I turned over the journal and showed them I was the one who found this secret and confided in them with it, then they had no choice. They had to make me Keeper of the Black Hand.”
“What…” I’m struggling to process everything I just heard. “What does that mean?”
“There hasn’t been a Keeper in two decades.
You know why?” Marco asks, his tone like venom.
“The last one got too powerful. He knew too much. One night, he was found dead in his study. His wife and kids were gone. Vanished just like that. They said he’d betrayed the Society, but everyone knew it was the Elders.
They didn’t want to share their throne.”
“And you want that same position?” I ask, gaping at him.
“I’m not stupid enough to try and overthrow them like he did,” Marco snaps. “I’m not here to play martyr. I’m here to survive. To rise.”
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing now.
“That role is not just some fancy title. The Keeper is the only one who can challenge the Elders’ vote.
The Keeper is the voice of the bloodlines, a shield between the families and the ones pulling the strings.
If they bring the seat back, and I’m the one sitting in it… ”
He trails off, watching me.
“You’d be untouchable,” I whisper.
He smirks.
“So this is just revenge against your brother so that you can prove that you’re better than him in some way?”
His eyes darken. “I’ve spent my whole life watching him win without even trying. The heir. The golden one. The one Father took by his side and taught his ways specifically. You think I stood a chance? You think I could ever catch up when all the cards were already stacked against me?”
He steps closer. I don’t move.
“But now?” He glances down at my belly, and something flickers in his eyes.
“Now I have leverage. I have you, and I have the truth about your child. Francesco lied to the Elders. He broke the bloodline laws by having sex with an outsider and brought about the prophecy child in the first place. If the Elders find out…”
“They’ll kill him,” I murmur.
“They see me as the one who protected the prophecy and revealed it to them.” He jabs a finger in the middle of his chest. “I’ll be on their side.”
“You don’t care about your brother?” I whisper, still in disbelief. “You don’t care if he gets hurt? If he gets killed?”
Something flashes in his eyes. He grits his teeth.
“I don’t hate my brother, but our world is a survival of the fittest. Only the smartest and the best win. And I’m done being second best.”
When I remain silent, he starts walking toward me.
“Don’t look at me like that. I was forced to make difficult choices…”
“Even if those choices mean using me,” I say, trying not to let my voice break.
He doesn’t deny it.
He softens, just a little. “Lia… I do love you. I didn’t plan to fall for you, but I did.”
But then he adds quietly, “And I will still use you if I have to. Because this is bigger than love.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t let them fall. “You’re just like them.”
My stomach twists. My legs feel unsteady beneath me. I want to scream. I want to cry.
His jaw tightens, and his hands reach up to caress my cheek. “Maybe. But at least I’m honest about it.”
I jerk away. “Don’t.”
His expression twists, like he’s about to snap again. But then he curses and steps back. “I will have you soon,” he says firmly. “I just have to wait until my initiations are done. Two more months. If I screw up now, I lose everything I’ve worked hard for.”
He moves to the door. “You might think you hate me now, but just think about what I said. I’m the reason you and your child will get to live. But if you run to him with what I’ve told you and he does anything stupid, he will fall, and the Society won’t spare you either.”
When he’s gone, I lock the door, press my back against it, and slide to the floor. I never realized how broken Marco is, just like Francesco. This… Society, it eats away at their humanity, leaving nothing but a skeleton of a man who thinks he’s complete.
I almost feel bad, for both Marco and Francesco, but I can’t think about them now.
My heart is racing. My hands won’t stop shaking. I press them to my stomach.
You’re not a weapon in some sick game. You’re mine.
If I want to protect my child, I can’t trust either of them. I’m not safe around men who want me just for their own selfish reasons.
I have to find my strength. I have to run.