CHAPTER 5
Alessandro's POV
D’Angelo was proficient; he was a very difficult man to catch and I disliked that — really disliked that. It frustrated the fuck out of me. However, I was not going to give up because I wanted him to repent for everything he had done and caused. I wanted him to suffer just like she did.
A wave of cold breeze summoned chills as memory dragged me back to that night; what I saw scarred me. I was never going to forget it.
In order to do this, we had to work it out first. I needed to figure out how to approach him before we could get into action, because I didn't want to react too fast — if I did, D’Angelo might do the same, and that could get us fucked.
Though I really didn't give a fuck about dealing with his little bitches paying a visit to try and kill me, I preferred to avoid that situation at all times because it just piled on the work — cleaning up after I slit their weak throats.
Right now, Bruno and I were placing anonymous tabs on D’Angelo to see what he did in his day and where he visited so we had an idea of when and how to approach him.
“Alessandro, we’ve got news,” Salvatore informed as he entered the study. Both Bruno’s and my gazes turned to the door where Salvatore stood and gave me a look of determination. We had been working our asses off for so many days now. We really needed this motherfucker to die.
“What is it?” Bruno asked as he rested back in his chair.
“Man, I found something that would give us the fucking trophy.” Salvatore slammed the papers on the table and glared at me.
“What?”
“Well, I found out where exactly D’Angelo is residing and it's not in Italy. However, he had land there that he keeps for when he visits Italy. It was the same land you visited years ago with Vicenzo,” Salvatore said. “You know, the one I picked you up from.”
I nodded my head as I looked at Salvatore, remembering that night so clearly. It was the night I first met her, the night etched into my head.
“Vito D’Angelo clearly needs to up his game because he does not know how to manage anything,” Bruno sniggered. “How could you be so careless to reveal your location like this? Man, this guy is one stupid còckface.”
I nodded in agreement to what Bruno was saying and then turned to Salvatore, who began to flip through the files he brought.
“Look — these are pictures of his mansion here and in Italy. The one in Italy has been refurbished with the money he stole and the mansion here is located in a stranded area, the isolated parts of New York,” Salvatore pointed out, holding up one of the papers.
I scanned it and noticed nothing unusual about the mansion.
Sure it was huge, but it was not normal to see a house in stranded areas like this.
Salvatore pulled out a few more pictures and placed them in front of me.
“This is D’Angelo, the man who tried to kill you years ago,” he pointed, and I clenched my jaw.
I knew exactly how he looked and I was not going to forget — he had been on my fucking mind for years. I was going to fucking kill him soon.
Judging by the picture, I was convinced D’Angelo was ageing; he had grey hair and his skin was already wrinkling.
The thing that bothered me was that he did not seem fucked up or dangerous in the photo, and it made me angrier because anyone would think he was kind and generous — when really, he is fucking scum.
“Show me the others,” I said through gritted teeth, urging Salvatore to move the pictures.
Salvatore slid D’Angelo’s photo aside and began to show the others.
There were three papers; two of them were men.
One was Leonardo and the other was a man I had never seen in my life.
The pictures were black and white so I couldn't make out every feature, but the last one hit me wrong. My heart dropped when he slid the final photo in front of me — it felt so wrong because there wasn’t a day I didn’t stare at her face, knowing she wasn’t here anymore.
“Leonardo was D’Angelo’s son,” Salvatore revealed, and it instantly caught my attention.
I shook my head and diverted my eyes from the paper to Salvatore.
Bruno darted a shocked look at me. Salvatore then pointed at the second picture of the man I didn’t recognise.
“This is Nicola Luciano, one of D’Angelo’s men, and the last is Ariana.
.. his daughter,” Salvatore whispered as he moved the pictures away.
“Nicola is someone I have never met, so dig deeper into him. I need everything I can have on D’Angelo before I bring him down. I want to prove to Vicenzo that my ‘theory’ about him is correct!”
I moved away from the table to leave the room, but Salvatore stopped me by calling my name. I looked over my shoulder to find both Bruno and Salvatore watching me in disbelief. Salvatore held a phone while he stood close to Bruno; Bruno blinked between me and the screen.
“Alessandro...” Salvatore started, confusion written across his face, but he didn’t finish.
“What?” I asked.
“These photographs were taken recently, but it doesn’t make sense...” He shoved the phone onto the table and grabbed the pictures again—Ariana’s in particular—and glared at it. “I thought Ariana died?”
I furrowed my brows and stared at Salvatore. He made no sense. If these pictures were recent, then how could Ariana—
“Alessandro,” he said, looking up and shaking his head, “Ariana didn’t die... it’s in the files.”
Salvatore’s words went in one ear and out the other.
My body froze as I stared wide-eyed at her photo and tried to hold onto sense; it couldn’t be true.
I’d done the research, convinced myself she was dead—her father had killed her.
I’d spent five long years telling myself she was gone.
The revelation hit like a sucker punch. Ariana had been alive all these years and I didn’t even know—
“S—she... she’s dead.” My voice trembled as the shock slipped away. “Ariana can’t be alive... I... I saw her...”
Salvatore’s face fell. He stood, watching me with a look I’d never seen before.
“She’s alive, buddy. Ariana didn’t die that day, Alessandro.
” He repeated it, and for the first time in years, something inside me broke.
My chest ached with each breath; my vision blurred with tears I never thought I’d let fall.
My head spun with a thousand questions. How? My body went numb — I couldn’t feel or hear anything properly. I fell back into the chair and tried to make sense of news I never expected to hear. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to hear it.
“Alessandro... don’t let this push you back,” Salvatore said. “We still need to do this.”
I looked at him, hollow. “This has to be a mistake, Salvatore. Ariana isn’t alive. She died years ago—she died in front of me.”
“No, Alessandro. There is no mistake. In fact, the only mistake here is that you didn’t check if she really died.” Salvatore stepped closer and sat next to me. “Tell me—did you physically check if she was dead?” I closed my eyes as realization hit and then shook my head.
“Exactly. You did not check. Don’t be naive about this, Alessandro. Ariana isn’t dead.”
“What are we going to do now?” Bruno broke the silence.
“A lot of things,” I whispered. “First, we find Ariana—whereabouts, what happened to her. Then I’ll bring the fucker down.” I turned to Salvatore. “I don’t want Ariana caught in this. I want her clear of all this.” Salvatore nodded.
I would find Ariana no matter the cost. I needed answers. I couldn’t accept that she’d been alive all these years without me knowing. My head kept asking why: if she was alive, why didn’t she stay that night? Why did she leave?
My stomach dropped. The room tightened.
“You tell him!”
“No! You fucking tell him!”
Bruno and Salvatore’s whispering snapped me out of my thoughts. They watched me, faces tight with something like disturbance.
“Tell me what?” I cut in. “Ragazzi, speak up! I have no time for this bullshit!”
“Boss, Nicola Luciano is Ariana’s fiancé—”."
***
BULLETS CRACKED THROUGH the mansion as I moved down the corridor, and when they did my feet stalled like they’d hit concrete. I glanced over my shoulder, eyes skimming the dark rooms to see what the hell was happening.
What was going on?
“H-hey... w-where are y-you taking me?” a trembling voice called from somewhere ahead.
A giggle answered from the main hall — that stupid, familiar giggle I’d been aching to hear — and it shoved me back onto my feet. I had come for that face, for that sound. I headed for the hall, but when I reached the threshold I froze.
The sight stopped me cold.
“L... leave me alone...! I have t... to me... meet—” Ariana’s words cut off into a ragged whisper.
Two of D’Angelo’s men had her pinned while he stood behind her like a ghost. She spoke right up until she blacked out; he just watched, expression dead, and then nodded once to the men for confirmation.
One of them hoisted Ariana over his shoulder and they started through the hallway toward the front yard.
I melted into the shadow behind a huge curtain and watched them go.
My heart went hollow in my chest as the scene played out.
I should have stepped in — grabbed her, thrown them off — but something held me back.
I knew that any interference might wreck whatever sick deal Vicenzo had cooked up with this bastard.
Still, I couldn’t just let it go; I couldn’t walk away from what I was seeing. So I followed, quiet and careful.
If only I’d known what was about to unravel in the next hour or two, I would’ve pulled Ariana out of there and run with her right then.
I sucked in a breath and crashed back into the present — a present that felt like fucking hell.
My head throbbed, my heart felt like it would explode, because that night had come back to choke me.
I’d never dared to think about it straight-on, and now that I had, I couldn’t take it.
That night ruined everything. My face was wet with angry tears as the memory cut open again. It was my worst nightmare.
My biggest regret.
The more I turned it over in my head, the angrier I got.
Anger spun through me until it felt like heat, and I slammed my fist into the wall.
My knuckles screamed, but the pain didn’t matter — the fury did.
Today I realized love didn’t give me anything but pain.
What the fuck did it ever do for me? Look at me now.
The girl I loved — the girl I lived for — had thrown me away. I was left to burn.
My mind went in circles: did Ariana actually leave me? Did she move on?
Of course she did. She had the nerve to disappear that night and not look back. She’s probably living her life now with that fiancé of hers.
The thought about her being betrothed to someone else made my blood boil. I lashed out, toppling the vase by the double doors. It smashed across the floor while I screamed until my throat cracked, weeping out hot, bitter tears.
I loved that girl. I loved her more than I loved myself.
I wanted everything with her — a future, a house, kids.
I imagined her as the mother of my children.
Instead she left. She didn’t tell me. She didn’t even have the decency to break it clean.
She ghosted me in the worst way possible. She ruined everything. She ruined me.
Ariana — you disappointed me. You shattered me.
From today, whatever was left of my love for her died.
It’s gone. She’s not the woman I adored — she’s the enemy who turned my world into ash.
Because of her I hardened. Because of her I became cruel and remade myself into something that could survive this life.
I’ll never love the same way again. I hate that I ever trusted her.
You betrayed me. I fell for it. You lied and I believed every lie. You told me you loved me and I swallowed it whole. I fell for everything, and now I hate myself for being so blind.
“Why?” I screamed into the room, sweat and tears tracing clean lines down my face. “Why did you do this, Ariana?” I whispered into the quiet that followed. “Why the fuck did you do this, Ariana...?”
I hate you, Ariana Vallezi. I fucking hate you. I will finish what needs finishing — I will make your father pay. I will make him suffer, and I will make you watch. You turned your back on me five years ago. Now it’s my turn.
Wait and watch. You’re in for a surprise.