Page 36 of Of Lies and Shadows

I freeze. A cold, sick weight drops in my stomach.

No. No, this isn’t?—

"Listen very carefully,Francesca Mori," he says, his voice deep and shaking with rage.

I don’t breathe. I don’t dare move. The barrel nudges harder into my skin.

“Dante.”

"Shut the fuck up! If I didn’t know you genuinely cared about my children. If I didn’t know you kept them safe, you would already be dead on the floor."

Tears prick my eyes. My mouth opens with a gasp, but no words come out.

"Was that part of it too?" he sneers. "Spread your legs for secrets? How many men have you fucked for information, little spy?" His voice is pure venom. His hand is steady. "God, your father must really hate you," he spits. "Whoring out his daughter to the enemy."

The tears slip free now, hot and shameful, sliding down my cheeks. I want to scream that he has no idea. That my father never loved me enough to hate me.

But I say nothing. I stay still.

"I’ll make you pay for this," he growls. "For stepping intomyhouse. For touchingmychildren. For daring to think you could play me."

He nudges the gun harder against my forehead now, forcing me to meet his gaze. His face is a mask of fury, ofbetrayal, of hurt.

I don’t see the man I kissed. I don’t see the man who smiled, who tucked his daughter into bed.

I see the monster. I finally see who they all see. The real him.

"Please," I whisper. "Let me explain?—"

"I don’t care about your reasons. Not even a little." He steps closer, crowding me. His rage fills the room like a second skin. "You’ll only open your fucking mouth when I tell you to," he says, trembling with barely contained violence. "And when you do? It’ll be to suck my cock, understand?"

I flinch, and a soft, broken noise escapes me.

He smiles, and it’s the coldest thing I’ve ever seen.

"I’m going to ruin you, Francesca. I'm going to taint you so badly, even your precious famiglia will pretend you never existed."

He drops the gun. It clatters onto the desk. His hand snaps out, grabbing my jaw in a bruising grip, forcing my head back.

"You’ll marry me," he snarls. "Oh, but don’t get any ideas, cara mia. You’ll never be my wife. You’ll be my nanny. My maid. My whore. Nothing more." His fingers dig cruelly into my skin. "I’ll make you beg for scraps of kindness. I'll make you regret the day you ever heard my name."

The world blurs at the edges, my body trembling so hard I can barely sit upright.

"We’re going to the judge," he says, releasing me with a shove that sends me sprawling back in the chair. "Andremove those fucking contacts out of your eyes. You look ridiculous."

I barely process the command before he takes one last step closer and spits in my face.

I gasp. Freeze. It’s not the gun. It’s not even the threats.

It’s this.

This degradation. This deliberate, cutting humiliation. It brands itself deeper than any bullet ever could.

I wipe my face with a shaking hand as he turns away, already barking orders into his phone, arranging a meeting that will seal my fate.

And sitting there, humiliated, broken, burning from the inside out, I know one thing with perfect, horrifying clarity:

I will never forget this moment. Not when he touches me. Not when he looks at me. Not even when I give my last breath.

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