Page 61 of His Nephew's Ex
I stare up at the mansion where my real family waits—Loriana and our unborn child, the only legacy that actually matters. Whatever comes next, whatever Flavio thinks he can take from me, he’s about to learn the difference between family obligation and genuine protection.
Because nothing compares to the fury of a man protecting what’s genuinely his.
20
Loriana
The sound of crystal shattering against marble jolts me awake from my afternoon nap, followed by Simeone’s voice cutting through the house like a blade through silk. It is sharp, commanding, and absolutely furious.
“Cazzo! Not the Baccarat!”
I bolt upright in our bed, my heart hammering against my ribs as I try to process what’s happening. Through our bedroom windows, I can see staff members scurrying across the grounds like ants whose hill has been disturbed, all moving with the urgent efficiency that comes when the Silver Devil is displeased.
Something crashes again—heavier this time, followed by rapid Italian that makes my skin prickle with awareness even though I can’t understand half the words. Whatever’s happening downstairs, it’s significant enough to turn my usually composed mafia don into something volatile and dangerous.
I tear myself from the sheets, silk whispering against my skin as I race toward the commotion. The marble staircase bites at my bare soles, but I hardly notice—whatever’s shattered Simeone’s pristine control demands my attention.
The foyer has been transformed. What were once elegant crystal pieces now lie in brilliant fragments across the floor. Two figures hover at the edges—staff turned statues by shock. Simeone remains at the center, disheveled but weirdly pristine and somewhat in control. He looks like he's standing in the eye of his very own storm.
He’s magnificent in his fury—all controlled violence and predatory grace, like a classical statue brought to life and given the power to destroy everything in its path.
“Stellina.” His voice immediately gentles when he spots me on the staircase, but I can see the effort it takes him to rein in whatever rage is driving him. “Go back upstairs. This will be cleaned up shortly.”
“What happened?” I descend the rest of the steps despite his order, noting how the staff melts away like smoke the moment they see me approaching. “It sounded like the house was coming down.”
“Nothing that concerns you.” But the tension radiating from his shoulders tells a different story. “Just some unfortunate clumsiness that cost me a very expensive vase.”
I study the wreckage, noting the way the crystal caught the light, the intricate patterns now reduced to dangerous beauty. “That was your grandmother’s Baccarat, wasn’t it?”
His jaw ticks with barely controlled emotion. “Among other things, yes.”
“Simeone.” I move closer, careful to avoid the glass shards. “What really happened?”
For a moment, he looks like he might deflect again, might retreat behind the walls of careful control he’s built around everything that matters to him. Then his shoulders drop slightly, and I see the exhaustion beneath his fury.
“The DNA results came back,” he says quietly.
Understanding crashes over me like ice water. Flavio. The suspicions Simeone’s been harboring about his nephew’s parentage.
“And?”
“Twenty years,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of absolute betrayal. “Twenty years of guilt over my brother’s death. Twenty years of raising another man’s bastard. Twenty years ofmaking excuses for his behavior because I thought blood meant something.”
The bitterness in his voice makes my chest tight with sympathy. All this time, he’s been torturing himself over decisions that cost his brother’s life, carrying responsibility for a nephew who apparently isn’t even family.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, because what else can you say when someone’s entire foundation crumbles?
“Are you?” He moves toward me with that fluid grace that never fails to make my pulse spike. “Because this means everything changes,stellina. Everything.”
There’s something in his tone that makes alarm bells ring in my head. “Changes how?”
“Flavio has no legitimate claim to the Codella name or inheritance. He’s not family—never was family.” His hands come up to frame my face with surprising gentleness. “Which means our child becomes my sole heir. The only legitimate continuation of my bloodline.”
The possessive satisfaction in his voice sends heat pooling low in my belly despite the gravity of what he’s telling me. “Simeone—”
“Which means we’re getting married. Tomorrow.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. “Tomorrow? But we agreed on two weeks—”
