75. Chapter Seventy-Five
Chapter Seventy-Five
Mariella
I stand under the spray of the shower in my old room at Carloso, my arms wrapped around myself. I couldn’t bring myself to step into Mateo’s room. It doesn’t feel like ours anymore. Not with this secret sitting like a stone in my chest.
I don’t even remember leaving Father’s house. I must have looked awful, because Dario and Fabio kept asking if I was okay. They assumed it was because of our Don… our late Don.
News of Gualtiero De Marco’s passing is spreading fast. They thought my father had told me, and I let them believe it.
Father did receive a call, probably to confirm exactly that, but he dismissed me like I was a servant before he took it. By now, he’s likely informed his conspirators, setting whatever comes next into motion.
The thought turns my stomach. I double over, dry heaving.
There’s nothing left, though. As soon as I was home and in my own space, I threw up what little remained of my breakfast.
I turn up the hot water and let it beat down on me, but it does nothing to ease the nausea or the boulder sitting on top of my shoulders.
I can’t tell Mateo.
I can’t NOT tell Mateo.
Either way, everything changes.
I grip my head, as if pressing hard enough could stop Father’s words echoing in my mind.
I’m trapped by an impossible choice.
Tell Mateo the truth, and I sign my family’s death warrant. Keep it to myself, and I condemn him to be their puppet, whoever they are.
Father thinks Mateo is weak and easy to control, but he’s wrong. Mateo would never bend. He’s fire and steel, stubborn and unyielding. He would fight. And they would kill him for it.
I know this as surely as I know Father doesn’t make empty threats.
Oh my God . The attack in Rome.
That must have been Father’s doing too. He wanted to eliminate the next De Marco heir before killing the Don.
Merda.
And he didn’t care that I was caught in the crossfire. He didn’t care if I lived or died.
Despite the hot water, an icy shiver runs through me. The horror of that night still lingers in my bones.
What do I do?
WHAT. Do. I. Do?
Damn you, Father.
Even if, for a moment, I entertained the idea that Mateo could spare me, my mother, my sisters, and anyone tied to us by blood, how could our relationship survive this?
It’s fragile as it is. Untested, new.
What chance does it stand against a century-old legacy he’s spent his life upholding? Mateo is loyal to a fault. I could never ask him to betray that for me.
Loving me, choosing me, the daughter of la famiglia ’ s biggest traitor, would make him look weak. Especially now, when he’s establishing his power.
He must be ruthless. Unforgiving.
He has no choice.
He would have to kill me.
Even if it broke his heart.
I press a hand over my mouth, choking on the weight of it all.
My father has been playing the long game, shifting pieces into place for years. And now, he’s won.
I hate him. I HATE him.
He destroys everything good in this world.
I won’t let him.
He will not get away with this.
Even if it means my own demise. I’ll find a way to take him down.
For the first time, I truly understand Tiero’s willingness to die for the woman he loves, if it meant Ella would live.
I still hope and pray he went through with Teo’s plan to save both himself and Ella, that what I heard is just a cover story. But if he didn’t, I understand.
If it comes down to it, I would die for Mateo.
To make sure he gets to live.
My stomach keeps churning, but as I stand under the scalding water, feeling colder than ever before, the truth settles into my bones.
I cannot build a life with Teo based on a lie.
I’m on the bed in the guest room, running through scenarios. How do I tell Teo?
And then there’s mamma and my sisters. Should I warn them?
But they would probably freeze with panic and I’m not there to help them. They don’t have the means to disappear on such short notice, and worse, if they did, Father would catch wind of my plan to reveal all to Mateo. God knows what that would set in motion.
No. I can’t tell anyone until it’s done.
I hate my father so much. And I hate my life.
How did it come to this?
No matter what I choose, someone will die.
At the sound of cars in the driveway, I jump off the bed and race to the window, my heart pounding as five armored SUVs pull up. Security has been tightened further, with two vehicles flanking Mateo’s car in the front and two in the back.
This is it.
The moment that changes everything.
My heart starts drumming so fast it’s thundering in my ears.
“Breathe. Just breathe,” I whisper to myself, yet the walls seem to close in.
I press my palms against my face, forcing slow, steady inhales and exhales. It barely helps. My body teeters on the edge of shutting down, but I can’t afford to lose control.
I have to move. Now.
Every minute I wait, Father will be enacting his treacherous scheme.
My legs are shaky as I make my way to the door. Downstairs, the hallway is eerily silent. No one is in sight.
Mateo must have dismissed everyone. I’m grateful for the emptiness. I don’t want to see anyone, or hear any voices.
When I reach his office, my fingers tremble as I grip the doorframe. Teo sits behind his desk in his large leather chair, his face distant, as if a million miles away. His eyes are bloodshot, and his hair is a disheveled mess, as if he’s been constantly running his fingers through it.
Is he pondering his brother’s choice? He was going to ask him not to tell him either way.
He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I stay where I am, drinking him in.
My heart swells with overwhelming love for this man.
The resolve I had in the shower, the determination to tell him, is slipping away.
I’m wavering.
How can I possibly do this?