Page 90 of Cruel Deception
I headed toward the crowd, wondering what kind of world I’d stepped into. One where power was measured in silence and fear, where respect came wrapped in violence.
Then I felt it.
A shadow behind me.
I turned—and stopped cold.
Luca.
He stood with a cigarette in his mouth and a smirk on his lips like he hadn’t tried to ruin me days ago. Like he hadn’t been beaten senseless and left broken.
“Scared?” he asked.
“Of you?” I laughed. “Please. After watching Cassian beat your ass like you were a toddler with a tantrum?”
His smirk dropped a little. Ego dented.
“I saw how you kissed him earlier.” He lit the cigarette with a snap. Took a deep drag, then blew smoke directly into my face.
I recoiled, coughing.
“So the marriage is working now?” he asked. “Playing happy wife?”
I stepped back, arms folded. “You’re being disrespectful. Then again, that’s always been your thing.”
His eyes narrowed. “You think Cassian’s better than me? You think he’s not worse?”
“Worse?” I tilted my head. “You locked me in a cell and tried to trade my life for power. Forgive me if I don’t take morality tips from you.”
His jaw tensed. “You still want to escape, don’t you? You think you’re free with him? He’s just smarter about how he cages you.”
“I don’t need your help,” I said coldly. “You lied about everything—pretended you didn’t know my father when you were scheming together, acted like a gentleman who barely noticed me when you were obsessed with marrying me for your own twisted reasons. You lied about buying my grandfather’s house, lied about my mother’s lead.”
I took one last step forward, nose to nose.
“You’re not a villain I’m scared of, Luca. You’re just a pathetic liar I regret ever trusting.”
He said nothing.
Just stared at me through the smoke, his silence heavier than anything he could’ve said.
I was about to walk away when his hand clamped around my arm.
I recoiled like I’d been burned, disgust rising like bile in my throat. His touch felt corrosive—like oil over fire, like filth against my skin.
I yanked my arm free, voice sharp with venom. “Don’t touch me with those filthy hands of yours.”
Right then, a voice crackled through the loudspeakers. The crowd hushed.
“The quarter-final race is about to begin! Tonight’s match features Cassian Moretti versus Marco Moretti.”
My heart jumped.
“The winner advances to the semi-finals. The loser is disqualified and will pay a forfeiture between $100,000 to $990,000, depending on the victor’s demand—or an item of equivalent value. This could include territory, vehicles, or any personally wagered stakes.”
The air thickened with anticipation. But I didn’t care for the technicalities right now.
I turned back to Luca and said, loud enough for anyone to hear, “As you can see, it’s race time. I’m here to watch my husband win. Not argue with a rotting mouth like yours.”
