66. Chapter Sixty-Six
Chapter Sixty-Six
Mariella
T oday was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives. And it started that way, hidden away in Tuscany. We woke up excited to get ready for our wedding. That seems like a lifetime ago.
How did everything turn into a nightmare so fast?
Instead of basking in newlywed bliss, we stand outside the ICU, separated from Don De Marco by a glass window. It’s surreal that the most powerful man in Sicily, maybe even all of Italy, lying in that hospital bed, is going to be my brother-in-law. If he survives.
At Mateo’s insistence, a doctor remains with Gualtiero at all times. One is inside now, checking his vitals and murmuring to a nurse.
I glance up at Mateo, his gaze fixed on his brother. He wants to be in there, by his side, but until Gualtiero is stable, they won’t let him.
Our Don is so still, so pale. Tubes run in and out of his body, and the machines keeping him alive beep in steady, hollow rhythms. My stomach twists, but there’s nothing either of us can do but wait.
Teo’s jaw is tight, tension radiating off him. I squeeze his hand in silent support, but his grip is rigid.
“I should be in there with him. I should be doing something more.” His voice is rough, like he hasn’t used it in weeks.
I press my palm against his chest, the strong beat of his heart beneath my hand.
“You’re doing everything you can. You’ve got Uberto searching for a donor lung, and if anyone can find the impossible, it’s him.” I fight to keep the desperation from my voice, but it creeps in anyway.
I hate seeing Mateo like this. So torn, so desperate to fix something beyond his control.
“And you’re here. That’s what matters most.”
His exhale is uneven, his eyes burning with a silent scream I can’t touch.
He pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine. Fingers thread through my hair to ground himself.
“I can’t lose him,” he whispers. “He’s all the family I have left, Mari.”
The quiet vulnerability in his voice fractures something inside me. I wish I could promise he won’t lose his brother, but I can’t.
There are too many factors, too many unknowns. Worst of all, none of us know if Gualtiero even has the will to pull through after leaving Ella behind, especially when the reasons remain unknown.
“Your brother is a fighter. Just like you.” I search for words that are true. I won’t lie to Mateo. I couldn’t.
“He just needs to wake up,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible as he pulls back to meet my eyes.
Forcing a small smile, I reach up to brush the hair from his forehead. “I wish I could wave a magic wand and fix everything.”
Mateo chuckles, but it’s a hollow sound, empty and void of warmth. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m scared, Mari.”
I cup his cheek, my thumb grazing over his skin. Tilting his face toward mine, I gently force him to really look at me.
“I know you are. But whatever happens, you don’t have to face this alone. I’m right here, by your side.”
His throat bobs with a hard swallow, his jaw tightening like he’s fighting back tears. I’ve never seen him cry. Mateo is always in control, never faltering. The most he’s come undone was when he saw the small wounds on my body after we were attacked. Other than that? Never.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my forehead. “For being here. For being with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Teo. Not now. Not ever.”
And as I say the words, I believe them with everything I have. I’ll be here, helping him hold it together, for as long as it takes.
“Signor De Marco.”
We both turn at the same time. The doctor who’s been with Gualtiero stands before us, Dr. Vittori, his nametag reads.
How did neither of us hear him come out?
Mateo grips my hand, his fingers pressing into my palm. Dr. Vittori’s expression is worn but hopeful.
“Your brother’s condition has stabilized. He’s showing signs of waking up,” he says. “You can go in for a few minutes.” Then, glancing at me, he adds, “But only one visitor at a time.”
Mateo turns to me, hesitation flickering in his dark eyes. I squeeze his hand before he can say anything.
“Go.” My voice is soft but firm. “I’ll be right here when you come back.”
His jaw tightens, but then he nods, lifting my hand to his lips in a quick, fleeting kiss before striding after the doctor.
I watch as Mateo steps into the room, pulls a chair next to the bed, and takes his brother’s hand.
Tears sting my eyes, and I clutch my chest, fighting the lump rising in my throat. Mateo has so much love for his brother, it’s never shone brighter than it does now.
What if that was Isa? The thought alone guts me. Putting myself in Mateo’s shoes isn’t helping.
I turn away, needing a moment to gather myself. Spotting a bathroom down the corridor, I head there to freshen up. Teo will be a while, and, honestly, I really do need to pee.
As I push the door open, an arm grabs me from behind and shoves me inside.
My body reacts before my mind catches up. My shoulders lock, my breath hitches, and my stomach twists into knots. The self-defense Mateo taught me? Completely forgotten.
Adrenaline surges through me, my heart rate skyrocketing. I open my mouth to scream, but a hand clamps over it, muffling the sound.
“Be quiet,” my father’s familiar voice hisses in my ear.
I should have known it was him. A wave of relief crashes over me, grateful it’s not some stranger. But on second thought, that might have been preferable.
He must feel me sag against him because not a moment later, he lets go of me.
I spin to face him.
My father stands there, impeccably dressed as always, his sharp gaze cutting through me like a scalpel. He looks at me the way he always has, like I’m an inconvenience, a situation to be managed.
“I gave you one simple instruction, Mariella. Answer the phone when I call. And yet, you disappeared for days with Mateo De Marco of all people, and without taking your phone.”
His voice is calm, measured, but every syllable coils tighter around my throat. His eyes sweep over me, assessing, dissecting, until they land on my ring finger. A muscle in his jaw twitches.
“Engaged? To him?” He spits the words as if they leave a bitter taste in his mouth. “What exactly did you do to make that happen in a week?”
Heat surges up my neck, a sick dread curling in my gut. I press my lips together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Someone like him could never understand what Mateo and I have.
His expression darkens, his voice turning razor-sharp. “God help me, did you spread your legs for him? I told you specifically not to.”
The words lash against me like a whip. My fingers curl into fists. He doesn’t really know Mateo, yet he assumes the worst, assumes I had to earn my place at Mateo’s side in the only way he thinks a woman can. As if I could never be enough on my own.
Anger flares hot and blinding.
“I did no such thing,” I bite out.
The truth? I have given myself to Mateo. Many times. But not in the way my father implies. Memories of Teo’s head between my legs, worshipping me like I matter , deepen the redness in my cheeks.
His lips curl, and for a second, I think he might actually be pleased. “That might explain it. You got some of my intellect after all. Good.”
The fury burning inside me turns ice cold. My whole body tenses, but I refuse to let him see how deeply his words cut.
I’m done with this. Done with him .
A bitter laugh rises in my throat, but I swallow it down.
“I’m going to marry Mateo. I’m living with him now. You don’t get to control my life anymore.”
His hand is around my throat before I can blink.
“Watch it, daughter.” His voice drops, low and menacing, like a blade pressed against my pulse.
Fear surges, my heartbeat hammering against his grip. My instincts scream at me to shrink, to submit.
But I don’t.
Not this time.
I meet his eyes, refusing to look away, refusing to let him see the fear slithering through my veins.
His grip tightens, just for a second, then he exhales sharply through his nose and lets go. A shift, a decision.
“Just because you wrapped Mateo around your little finger doesn’t mean he can protect you from me. The fact that he was so easily manipulated by you only proves how weak he is, how unfit to rule without his brother around.”
He adjusts his cufflinks, smoothing down his suit jacket like he’s already dismissed the conversation. Like I’m dismissed.
“But perhaps this isn’t so bad after all.”
A pause. My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat.
“If you had to throw yourself at someone, you could’ve picked worse. Through you, he’ll be easy to control.”
I go rigid.
No.
I always knew he didn’t respect Mateo. But this? Seeing him as nothing more than an imbecile to manipulate?
His lips press into a thin line. “Just make sure you keep your legs together until after the wedding. And for your sake, let’s hope he keeps finding you useful.”
My pulse pounds in my ears. I lift my chin, steel forcing its way into my spine.
“I won’t be part of your schemes,” I grind out, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.
But he’s already turning away, the conversation over in his mind.
“You will do as I tell you. You owe me that much.”
Owe him?
For what?
For giving me life? For controlling it? Twisting it? Making me into nothing more than a pawn on his game board?
My hands tremble at my sides, rage clawing up my throat, sharp and acidic. But I don’t get to answer.
Without a backward glance, my father strides out of the women’s restroom.
My breath shudders, my whole body betraying me, shaking from the inside out.
But I can’t fall apart.
Not here.
Not when Mateo is just down the hall, already carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
So I breathe through it.
I’ll deal with my father.
I swallow the fear, the fury, the shame, pressing them down like stones into deep water.
Let him think he still has control. Let him believe I’ll obey.
But I won’t. Not ever again.