Page 126 of Broken Mafia Bride
“I’m surrounded by incompetence!” His voice booms, fury breaking through the cracks. “I tried to bring my daughter back, but that idiot I sent drove her off a cliff.”
He starts to pace, hands clasped behind him.
“I watched you grow up. I was biding my time, waiting to take you before it was too late. Then the perfect opportunity came along.”
He sneers. “Isabella was supposed to redeem you. But you were hopeless—too headstrong, too much like your father. I gave up. You didn’t exist to me anymore. Until Isabella came whining about how she loved the Gagliardi boy.”
My lungs forget how to function. My eyes go wide.
He’s lying. Hehasto be lying.
“I didn’t care,” he continues, “not until she mentioned you were pregnant.”
His eyes gleam like a blade in the dark. “It was my last chance to fix the bloodline. And I took it. You weren’t supposed to goover the cliff, either. But like your mother,” he sneers, “you let love ruin you.”
“You’re lying!”
He laughs—cold and hollow, a sound that freezes the air.
“Believe what you want. You know nothing. I’ve led you on a merry chase foryears. First with the Echelon Syndicate. Then with La Rete Rossi. I used the Gagliardis to destroy your family, just like Enrico tried to destroy mine.”
I stare at him, horrified. Disgusted.
His expression twists into a scowl.
“If you hadn’t killed Luca, I would have succeeded. He failed me. His ego got in the way, and now look—everything’s a mess.”
I stagger back, the hatred in his voice knocking the breath from my chest.
“You blameeveryonebut yourself. You think you’re some tragic hero, but the truth?” My voice cracks, but I don’t stop. “You’re a sick bastard. That’s why Mama left. Jesus Christ, you killed her! And now you stand there like some wounded king, pretending you’re the victim—when you’re the goddamnvillain.”
His mouth pulls into a cruel frown. “Look around you, child?—”
“I’m not your child,” I spit. My skin crawls just hearing the word.
“I’ve created paradise,” he says, his voice calm now. Too calm.
He steps forward, and I skitter away. Lucio walks to the tall window behind his desk and stands before it, staring out at the scenery I once believed was the very picture of perfection.
Now I see it’s all smoke and mirrors.
The rose-colored glasses have fallen from my eyes, and Casa Bianca reveals itself for what it truly is. The itch to leave this place rises, burning just beneath my skin like a fever.
“You should be honored that I’ve brought you here,” he says.
Years and years of lies, tactics, and manipulation… all to bring me here.
How far does his web stretch? How many moves ahead is he playing?
One thing I know with absolute certainty: My daughter willnotbecome his next project.
I won’t let him mold her into some twisted heir to his so-called paradise.
Noemi ismine.
And I’ll burn this whole empire to the ground before he gets his claws in her.
Just then, I remember the gun sitting in the top drawer of his desk. I inch toward it—silently, carefully—sweat sliding down my back, heart racing. Grasping the handle of the drawer, I pull it open and reach for the gun, my focus fixed fully on him.
