74. Chapter Seventy-Four
Chapter Seventy-Four
Mariella
“ I ’ve done what you asked. Gualtiero De Marco is taken care of. He’s as good as dead.”
The air leaves my lungs.
My hand falls to my side, fingers trembling. My mind races, trying to make sense of what I just heard.
Taken care of?
Does he know who shot Tiero?
Merda! Was he involved?
I take a slow, shaky step closer, pressing my back to the wall just beside the doorframe. My heart is a wild thing, slamming against my ribs, but I force myself to listen.
“No, I assure you. They won’t be able to find a donor lung in time.”
I clap a hand over my mouth. He doesn’t know about Tiero’s decision to save Ella, not that it will make any difference to the outcome. But it makes me happy that we’ve been able to keep it totally secret.
“And even if they did, I’ll make sure it never reaches him.”
Oh my god.
I feel sharply and violently nauseous. The sun streaming in through the tall windows feels wrong, too bright, too indifferent, while my entire world tilts beneath me.
Then his next words strike me like a lightning bolt.
“Mateo? Are you kidding me? He won’t be a problem.”
No!
No, no, no. My knees threaten to give out.
What has he planned for Teo?
But my father’s voice drops into something even more alarming.
“Just remember our deal. If you try to cross me, I’ll make sure it blows up in your face.”
Rage and horror collide inside me, and suddenly I can’t hold back. My trembling hands shove the door open. It swings inward with a sharp crack against the wall.
Father’s head snaps up, his icy eyes locking onto mine.
But he doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch.
Then, still staring at me, he carries on as if nothing happened.
“Yes,” he says smoothly. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I have news.”
He ends the call.
The silence that follows is unbearable.
“Are you behind Gualtiero’s shooting?” My voice trembles, barely more than a whisper.
Father rises from his chair with slow, deliberate movements, placing both hands on the polished solid timber desk as he leans forward. Sunlight catches the glint of his gold Rolex.
A smug smile spreads across his face.
“Behind it?” He chuckles, the sound somehow chilling. “I shot him myself.”
The admission is like a bullet to my chest.
I blink a few times, slow to process what he just said. My breath catches, my ribs locking around my lungs.
I clutch my sternum as if I can physically hold my heart to stop it from shattering into pieces.
“This… this doesn’t make any sense.” I stutter, forcing the words out even as the nausea tightens its grip on me.
“You swore your allegiance to the De Marco family. You wear their brand on your chest. You’re about to become consigliere.” My voice breaks. “ Why ? Why would you do this?”
My father straightens, adjusting the cuffs of his crisp shirt like we’re debating a suit purchase in a clothing store.
“For more power, of course.” He shrugs, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I got a better offer than consigliere.”
I stare at him, completely dumbfounded.
“More power?” My voice rises, raw with disbelief.
I turn in a circle, throwing my arms out, gesturing at the obscene luxury surrounding us. The vaulted ceilings, the gilded moldings, the priceless artwork hanging on the walls.
“You’re already one of the wealthiest men in la famiglia , probably with more money than you know what to do with! Why do you need more? The De Marcos trust you!”
He laughs, low and condescending, shaking his head like I’m a foolish child.
“Trust,” he scoffs. “Such a na?ve thing to value.” His gaze sharpens, cold and cutting. “Trust doesn’t buy influence. Trust doesn’t make men fear you.”
He tilts his head. “And fear is the only real power there is.” His voice is calm, almost bored, but the words cut through the air like a whip.
My stomach turns.
I stare at him, bile rising in my throat. He talks about destroying an empire, about murdering people I love as if it’s nothing more than a chess move. And for him it isn’t.
“The De Marcos are arrogant and self-centered,” he continues, his expression twisting with disdain. “They believe they’re invincible, untouchable. Newsflash, they are not . Even a century-old empire will fall if the right pressure is applied.”
He straightens, brushing invisible dust from his sleeve. “And I am that pressure.”
My hands clench into fists.
“You swore loyalty to them,” I repeat, my voice shaking. “They trust you.”
His lips curl into something that might have once been a smile, but now it’s just cruel.
“That was their mistake. Trust is for the ignorant.”
He leans in, his eyes glinting with something dark and victorious.
“The De Marcos are history. Their time is over. Gualtiero may have gained more power in the last month than anyone before him, but that only makes our victory sweeter.”
My breath stumbles.
He’s not just a traitor. He’s a monster.
“Us?” The word scrapes my throat. “Who is us ?”
He raises a mocking eyebrow. “You’re not really expecting me to answer that, are you?”
Still, I try again. “Have you been working with Molinaro?”
A slow grin spreads across his face.
“For years. And no one suspected a thing.” He sighs, almost wistfully. “Shame he’s dead now.”
My pulse pounds in my ears.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh. My. God.
“What about Mateo?” My voice barely makes it past my lips. “I’m about to marry him.”
“Yes.” He rubs his chin, considering. “I have to admit, that was unexpected, but it might work in our favor. Keeping him close while the dust settles would be advantageous… as long as he moves in the direction we want. That’s where you come in, figlia mia .”
I stare at him, my throat tight.
“He’s always done his brother’s bidding. But he shouldn’t be too hard to—” He pauses, pursing his lips as if selecting the right word. “Convert. Especially with you sucking his cock.”
What?
My cheeks blaze with humiliation at his crude words, while the floor seems to vanish beneath me at the same time.
“You want me to manipulate him?” My voice cracks, the words burning like acid in my mouth.
He sighs, long and exasperated, as if I’m a slow child.
“You’re about to be his wife. A wife’s duty is to stand with her husband. Guide him. Shape him.”
My stomach plunges. I shake my head, stepping back as if I can physically retreat from this nightmare. Father has always been cold. Calculating. But this? This is next level.
A wife shapes her husband ? I’ve never heard anything more ridiculous. As if the men in our world would ever allow such a thing. As if he would.
He flicks a hand, dismissing my horror like it’s an inconvenience. “It’s not manipulation, Mariella. We’re family.”
“No. I won’t be part of this. I love him.”
He tsks, his gaze darkening. “Love.” He spits the word like it’s filth in his mouth. “Such a fickle emotion. It can turn to hate in the blink of an eye. You cannot think emotionally, figlia mia . That’s a mistake.”
A mistake?
“ Mamma said you once loved each other.” The words slip out before I can stop them, a desperate attempt to find something human in him. Something real.
He exhales sharply, a huff of bitter amusement. “And look where that got me. Burdened with five daughters.”
The blow is low. I should’ve seen it coming. He’s always held nothing but disdain for us, for not being the sons he wanted. But it still lands, right in the part of me that stupidly believes that parents love their children.
“If you’re determined to hold on to this ridiculous notion of love,” his voice is ice now, sharp as glass, “you’ll do what’s best for your beloved Mateo.” He sneers his name. “And what’s best for him is what’s best for us.”
I glare at him, my heart slamming against my ribs.
“You want me to betray him.” My voice shakes, but I force the words out. “To help you destroy everything his family built. How could you think I’d ever agree to that?”
He steps forward, deliberate. Suffocating.
“Because you have no choice.”
His jaw tightens, the mask of patience slipping.
“Otherwise, he will meet his brother’s fate. And I doubt that’s something you want.”
My heart stops . The room sways.
“And you will not tell him, Mariella.” His voice drops, every word a blade against my skin. “Because if you do, you know what will happen.”
The blood drains from my head. The walls tilt.
“De Marco law is clear,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming.
He watches me closely, savoring my unraveling.
“Betrayal means death… for the entire family. I have betrayed them… but to set an example, Mateo would have to kill you too. And your mother. Isabella. Your other sisters.”
I suck in a sharp breath.
That vomiting sensation from my wedding? It’s back.
He tilts his head, studying me like he’s finally enjoying the exchange.
“Would you have your own family killed, figlia mia ? Your innocent sisters?”
The walls press in.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t move.
I can’t win.
His smirk deepens as the truth sinks its claws into me. He’s got me right where he wants me.
“That’s what I thought.”
I swallow hard, my throat raw. My heart screams at me to fight, to do something. But what?
How do I save the man I love without signing my own family’s death warrant?
Trapped.
I’m trapped .