Chapter 7 Bianca
BIANCA
The words hang in the air, and I watch Matteo’s face transform from devastated to furious in the span of a heartbeat.
His hands ball into fists, and for the first time in my life, I see him look at me with something that might be hate.
Good. I want him angry.
I want him to feel something other than pity and guilt.
“You want to compare me to Mario?” His voice is low and dangerous, the kind of tone that sets alarm bells going off in my head. “You want to talk about honesty? Fine. Let’s be honest.”
He steps closer, and I resist the urge to back away. “You think loving you has been easy? You think raising Giuseppe’s daughter was some kind of reward?”
“So you do think I’m damaged goods,” I spit back, and something savage in me enjoys watching his jaw clench.
“I think you’re a selfish brat who’s throwing away a lifetime of love because your feelings got hurt.” His voice is getting louder, more vicious. “I think you’re so busy feeling sorry for yourself that you can’t see past your own pain.”
“My own pain?” I laugh, and it sounds hysterical even to me. “You lied to me about everything! About who I am, about who you are—”
“To protect you!” he roars, his composure finally shattering completely. “Because I knew this is what would happen! I knew you’d fall apart and destroy everything good in your life because you can’t handle the truth!”
“What truth? That I’m a monster’s daughter? That I was born from violence?”
“That you’re ungrateful!” The word explodes out of him. “That despite everything I’ve given you, everything I’ve sacrificed for you, you’d rather tear it all down than admit that maybe, just maybe, I was trying to do the right thing!”
His words hurt and I want to stagger backward, but I force myself to stay upright. “The right thing would have been telling me the truth.”
“Would it?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it.
He looks at me coldly and it takes everything in me to not cower.
“Look at you right now. Look at what the truth has done to you. You’re destroying everything you touch, hurting everyone who loves you, and for what?
Because you found out your biological father was a piece of shit? ”
“Because I found out my entire life was a lie!”
“Your life wasn’t a lie!” He’s screaming now too, his face flushed with rage. “Every birthday, every bedtime story, every time I held you when you had nightmares—that was real! Every moment I chose to love you was real!”
“Did you?” I’m screaming now, my voice raw. “Or do you just love Arianna and Giovanni more because they’re actually yours? Because they’re not Giuseppe’s bastard rape baby that you got stuck with?”
“How dare you!” Matteo shouts, his face nearly purple with rage. “I’m your goddamn father—”
“But you’re not my father!” I scream back, feeling the sting in my voice from how loud I’m screaming. “You’re my brother! Everything I felt, everything I believed about our relationship—it’s all wrong! I’ve been living someone else’s life for nineteen fucking years!”
“Is it?” His eyes are blazing now, all pretense of careful control gone. “Does biology change the fact that I was the one who taught you to ride a bike? That I was the one who scared away the monsters under your bed? That I was the one who held you when Mario—”
“Shut up.” The words come out broken, desperate.
“No, you wanted honesty.” He follows me as I back away, and there’s something relentless in his advance. “You want to know why I lied? Because I knew you’d do exactly this. I knew you’d take something beautiful and tear it apart because it doesn’t fit into some perfect little box.”
“I’m not tearing anything apart—”
“You just told me I never loved you!” His voice cracks on the words. “You stood there and compared me to Mario, the man who tortured you, and said at least he was honest about wanting to hurt you. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
I do know.
I can see it in his face, in the way his hands are shaking, in the raw devastation underlying his fury.
And god help me, part of me is glad.
Part of me wants him to hurt the way I’m hurting.
“You know what makes it worse?” I continue. “Mario. When he took me, when he put me in that container and told me it was just a game—that wasn’t my crazy uncle losing his mind. That was my brother. Another one of Giuseppe’s sons who saw me as illegitimate competition for what should have been his.”
Matteo’s face flashes with pain.
“Maybe I meant it,” I say quietly, and watch him recoil like I’ve slapped him.
“Maybe you did.” His voice goes flat, emotionless. “Maybe that’s who you really are underneath all the love and protection I’ve given you. Maybe blood really does tell.”
The words hit harder than any scream would have. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means right now, you’re acting exactly like Giuseppe would have.” He steps back, and for the first time, he looks at me like I’m a stranger. “Destroying everything good in your life because you can’t control your emotions.”
My nails bite into my skin. “I’m not like him,” I start to snarl but Matteo cuts me off.
“Aren’t you?” His laugh is bitter, his eyes cruel. “You’re standing here trying to hurt me as much as possible because you’re in pain. That’s what he would have done.”
The silence that follows is deafening.
I can hear my own heartbeat, can feel Alessandro shifting uncomfortably behind me, and can see the immediate regret flash across Matteo’s face.
But it’s too late.
The words are out there, poisoning the air between us.
“There it is,” I say softly. “The truth you’ve been hiding for nineteen years. You never believed I could be anything other than what he was. All that love, all that protection—it was just you trying to control a monster.”
Matteo closes his eyes in frustration—or is it something else? “That’s not what I meant—”
“Yeah, it is.” I smile, and I can feel how vicious it is. “It’s what you meant. And you know what? You’re probably right. I am Giuseppe’s daughter. I do have his blood. And maybe it’s time I stopped fighting it.”
“Goddammit Bianca. I just need you to fucking listen—”
“And you know what the real joke is?” I cut him off, uncaring.
“Even Giuseppe didn’t want me. His own daughter wasn’t worth claiming.
What does that say about me?” I can feel tears welling in my eyes, but I refuse to cry.
“What does that say about how unlovable I must be if even a monster rejected me?”
That stops Matteo in his tracks. “You are not unlovable—”
“No, I’m finally seeing everything clearly now.
” The words keep pouring out, each one designed to cut deeper.
“I’ve been the outsider this whole time, haven’t I?
Playing at being part of a family that was never actually mine.
Bella probably knew too, didn’t she? Is that why she always seemed a little careful around me?
And the twins. God, they’re not my siblings, they’re my nephew and niece. ”
“Enough,” Matteo orders. “Giovanni and Arianna are your siblings. They love you. Everyone loves you.”
“Do they? Or do they just go along with your lie because that’s what you wanted?” I can hear how hysterical I sound but I can’t stop. “How many other people know, Matteo? How many other lies are there? What else about my life is completely fake?”
Before he can respond, Antonio appears in the doorway looking uncomfortable as hell, his eyes taking in the broken glass, my tear-streaked face, and the obvious tension crackling between me and Matteo.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he says carefully, “but we have a problem.”
“What now?” Matteo’s voice is rough, broken.
“The Families have called an emergency meeting.” Antonio’s eyes dart between us, taking in the obvious destruction of our relationship. “They want to discuss the Giuseppe revelations and their impact on DeLuca leadership.”
My stomach clenches, but I keep my expression neutral. “Let me guess. They think I’m weak.”
Antonio hesitates, clearly trying to decide whether he should tell me.
He exhales a moment later. “They think the scandal makes you a liability,” he says, clearly hating every word that comes out of his mouth.
“Emotional instability, questionable parentage—they’re saying it threatens the family’s reputation. ”
Perfect.
Absolutely fucking perfect.
“Fine,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos in my head. “When and where?”
“Tomorrow night at Le Saint-Martin, but—”
“Perfect. That gives me time to prepare.” I turn back to Matteo, who’s staring at me with something that looks like terror. “Don’t worry, big brother. I’ll handle this myself. After all, isn’t that what Giuseppe would have done?”
“You’re not ready for this,” he says, and despite his anger, there’s real fear in his voice. “You’re walking into a room full of vultures who want to see you fail. They’ll tear you apart.”
“I’m thinking perfectly clearly.” I meet his eyes, letting him see the cold determination there. “I’m thinking that maybe it’s time to stop pretending to be something I’m not. Maybe it’s time to show them exactly what Giuseppe DeLuca’s daughter is capable of.”
“That’s not who you are.”
“Isn’t it?” I shrug, already turning toward the door. “You just spent the last ten minutes telling me exactly who I am. Giuseppe’s daughter. A monster you tried to control. Well, guess what? The experiment’s over.”
“Stop.” His voice changes completely, becoming the cold, authoritative tone of Don Matteo DeLuca. “As the head of this family, I’m ordering you not to go to that meeting.”
I freeze in the doorway, my back still to him.
For a moment, the command almost works—nineteen years of conditioning, of respecting his authority, of being the obedient daughter who (sometimes) does what she’s told.
Then I slowly turn around, and when I meet his eyes, I smile.
“But you’re not the head of my family anymore, are you?” My voice is soft, deadly. “You’re just my half-brother. And last I checked, brothers don’t get to give orders.”
Antonio drops his tablet. Matteo’s eyes flare. “You are not going to go. Is that clear?”
“Don DeLuca,” I say, putting mocking emphasis on his title, “with all due respect, go fuck yourself.”
Alessandro makes a sound behind me—maybe a warning, maybe just shock—but I don’t look at him.
I keep my eyes on Matteo as I watch something break in his expression.
“You can’t do this,” he says quietly. “If you walk out that door, if you go to that meeting without my support…”
Oh, this is too fucking good. “What? You’ll disown me?” I laugh. “Too late for that. Turns out I was never really yours to begin with.”
I walk back toward the door, stepping over broken glass and shattered picture frames.
At the threshold, I pause and look back at him one more time.
“Thank you,” I say softly. “For finally being honest with me. Now I know exactly where I stand.”
“Where are you going?” His voice breaks on the question.
“To figure out how to be what I really am instead of what you tried to make me.” I give him one last cold smile. “Don’t wait up, big brother.”
I leave him standing there in the wreckage of my study and our relationship, surrounded by broken glass and broken promises.
Let him clean up his own mess for once.
Let him figure out how to explain to the Families that the daughter who was never really his has finally stopped pretending.
I have planning to do.
And for the first time in my life, I’m going to do it without asking permission from anyone.
Time to find out what happens when you stop fighting your nature and start embracing it.
Even if what you are might be something dark and dangerous and completely out of control.
Especially then.