Page 63 of Lord of Obsession

The guards shift positions at a subtle signal from my uncle. Not threatening, not yet, but the room's energy transforms like a brewing storm. Outside, darkness has fully claimed the grounds, turning windows into perfect mirrors that reflect our tableau of power and restraint.

"Is that what your Greco pet has been whispering in your ear?" Salvatore moves around the desk, diminishing the physical barrier between us. "That we're all the same beneath our so-called pretense? That your years of education and careful distance mean nothing?"

"Dario didn't need to tell me anything I didn't already know." My voice drops lower, intimate enough that the guards have to strain to hear. "He just made me stop lying tomyself about what I am. What you made me."

My mother makes a small sound, a sharp intake of breath that carries decades of unspoken truths. Luca rises from his window seat, caught between family loyalty and the genuine affection we've shared since childhood.

"Rafael." My mother's voice carries a plea beneath its practiced control. "Come home. Whatever hold Greco has over you, whatever you think you've discovered about yourself—we can fix this."

"Fix." The word tastes bitter on my tongue. "Like I'm something broken because I finally stopped denying my nature."

Salvatore closes the remaining distance between us, power radiating from his frame despite his advancing age. "Your nature? You mean the skills we honed, the killer we crafted because this world demands that kind of protection?" His hand finds my shoulder, grip just shy of painful. "That was never meant to be your prison, boy. It was meant to be your armor."

I don't shrug off his touch. Instead, I let him feel how tension coils through my frame,how ready I am for whatever comes next. "You don't understand. None of you do." My gaze sweeps the room, taking in each face that once represented home and safety. "I'm not here to negotiate terms or beg for forgiveness. I'm here to tell you that I'm walking away. Completely. Permanently. And anyone who tries to stop me will regret it."

Salvatore's grip tightens, his fingertips digging into muscle. "You think it's that simple? That you can just declare independence and we'll all respect your wishes?" A cold laugh escapes him. "The Valenti name comes with obligations that don't disappear because you've found yourself a Greco plaything."

The insult to Dario sends heat flooding my veins, but I maintain my composure by sheer force of will. "My last name doesn't define me. Not anymore."

"Your blood defines you." Salvatore releases my shoulder, stepping back to observe my reaction. "Whether you acknowledge it or not. Whether you run to academia or to our enemies' beds. You are Valenti to your bones, Rafael."

For a moment, silence stretches between us. Even the guards hold their breath, sensingthe precipice upon which we balance. Finally, my mother breaks the tension, rising from her seat with fluid grace.

"At least stay for dinner." Her voice carries carefully constructed neutrality. "We can discuss this like the family we are."

"Family." The word tastes like ash. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

Salvatore's eyes narrow at my tone. "Careful, boy. There are lines even you shouldn't cross."

"I crossed those lines weeks ago." I button my jacket, preparing to leave. "When I chose Dario over family loyalty. When I finally admitted what burns between us is worth any price."

The confession lands like a physical blow. My mother's composure cracks, revealing genuine shock beneath her careful mask. Luca curses under his breath, while the guards exchange glances heavy with meaning.

Salvatore, however, reveals nothing. His expression remains carved from ice as he returns to his position behind the desk, physically removing himself from potential confrontation. The gesture speaks volumes about his tactical assessment of the situation.

"So that's your final word." He doesn't phrase it as a question. "You choose the Greco boy over blood. Over legacy. Over everything we've built."

I head for the door, each step carrying the weight of inevitability. At the threshold, I pause, allowing myself one final glance at the family I'm truly leaving behind. "I choose freedom. I choose truth. I choose to stop pretending I'm something other than what I am."

My hand finds the doorknob, cool metal grounding me in this moment of severance. "Goodbye, Uncle. Mother." My gaze finds Luca, the cousin who's been more brother than blood relation. "Take care of yourself."

Then I'm moving through hallways that suddenly feel foreign, past portraits of ancestors who seem to watch my departure with silent judgment. The mansion's grand entrance looms ahead, solid oak doors that separate the world of my birth from the life I've chosen.

Behind me, footsteps echo against marble—my mother, following one last time. I pause, allowing her to catch up, though I don't turn. Can't turn. The weight of finality presses against my spine likea blade.

"Rafael." Her voice carries none of its usual control. "Please reconsider. This path you're choosing, it can only end in blood."

Now I face her, taking in the woman who raised me to be both gentleman and killer. "All paths in our world end in blood, Mother. The difference is, I've chosen whose blood matters most to me."

Understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by something close to grief. "You love him."

The accusation—for that's what it is—hangs between us like smoke after gunfire. I don't confirm or deny, merely incline my head in acknowledgment of a truth we both recognize.

"Be careful," she whispers, reaching up to straighten my already perfect tie. The gesture carries decades of care disguised as correction. "Salvatore won't let this stand. He'll come for you both."

"Let him try." I catch her hand, holding it briefly before releasing her. "I've learned more than law books at Valmont."

She steps back, composure reasserting itself like armor sliding into place. "Goodbye, my son."

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