Page 19 of Blood Debt
My steps are immediate, fast, echoing through the marble hall as I storm down the corridor. Matteo follows close behind, silent, professional—but even he looks uneasy.
We round the bend into the main foyer.
And stop.
There, beneath the massive chandelier, beside the sweeping iron staircase, my father sits in his wheelchair. Draped in a wool shawl, a heavy gold ring glinting on his veined hand, eyes clear and too smug for a man who had just had blood pressure meds an hour ago.
But it’s not him that freezes me.
It’s the woman beside him. The woman from the date yesterday.
She’s standing with perfect posture, chin tilted, arms crossed tightly beneath her chest—but not in defense. In amusement.
Her dress is deep emerald today. Simple, tailored, expensive. Her lipstick is red this time. The kind that leaves marks. Her gaze flicks toward me—mocking and unashamed.
She’s smirking.
And he’s shaking her hand like she’s already signed something in blood.
I step forward, slow.
“Papà,” I say, switching to Italian, my voice low. “Perché non sei a riposo?”
Why aren’t you resting?
He doesn’t even look guilty.
“Sono andato a prendere tua moglie.”
I went to get your new wife.
I stop just short of him, hand resting on the back of his wheelchair.
“Very funny,” I murmur. “Let’s go. I’ll put you to bed myself.”
He yanks slightly against my grip—not hard, but enough to remind me that, despite his condition, the old man has a spine carved from Sicilian marble.
“No jokes,” he snaps, eyes flashing. “The date didn’t go well because you’re impossible. So I brought her back. This time, you’ll behave.”
My jaw tightens.
Matteo shifts awkwardly behind me, watching the interaction unfold like he’s witnessing a power shift in a nation-state.
I glance at her.
She’s leaning slightly on one foot, hip popped, as if she’s been waiting for this moment to arrive all morning.
She lifts a hand. Waves, just once.
“Hello, husband,” she says, her voice as honeyed and smug as ever.
I don’t move.
My father looks up at me, voice lowering with finality. “Preparati.”
Prepare yourself.
I narrow my eyes.
