Chapter 166
Serena
Then something shifted in his expression. Recognition. Horror.
"Wait." His voice sharpened. "You're not my people. You're not Obsidian Brotherhood."
The man in front—older, barrel-chested, with a thick Italian accent—smiled. It wasn't friendly.
"Ah, no. The Obsidian Brotherhood—they receive a notification." His tone made the word sound like a death sentence. "To leave. To step back. Immediately." He spread his hands as if the matter were already settled. "Now this is handled by us. The Corsetti family. We take over from here."
Wesley's face went white. "What notification? I didn't authorize anything. I didn't—" He looked around at the other men, panic creeping into his voice. "This has nothing to do with you. This is my business. My—"
"Your business?" The Corsetti boss laughed. "No, no. You are bambino. Child playing at gang member. This is bigger than you now."
I watched Wesley argue with the tattooed enforcers, watched him realize he'd lost whatever control he thought he had. And for a split second—just a flicker—I felt something almost like hope.
If Wesley and these men were at odds, if there was internal conflict, maybe I could—
Movement at the door.
A figure stepped through. Tall. Impeccably dressed in a tuxedo that probably cost more than my monthly rent. Face arranged in a smile that made my skin crawl.
Felix.
Of course. Of fucking course.
My throat tightened. I wanted to say something cutting, something that would wipe that smug smile off his face, but the words stuck like glass shards I couldn't swallow. Instead, what came out was forced—brittle—the kind of bravado that fooled no one.
"So you dressed up for this." My voice sounded steadier than I felt, but I could hear the crack underneath. "What is this, Felix? You attending your own funeral?" The joke landed flat, desperate. "Because that smile is making me sick."
Felix's grin widened, like he could taste my fear. "My dear Serena. Always so sharp-tongued—even when your hands are shaking." He adjusted his bow tie with deliberate leisure. "I assure you, the formal attire is purely celebratory. Tonight is, quite possibly, the most important night of my life. I wanted to mark the occasion appropriately."
Wesley turned from the Corsetti men to stare at his uncle. "Felix? What's going on? I told you I'd handle this. It was supposed to be private. Just me and Serena settling accounts." His voice rose. "Why were my people pulled out? Why are his people here?"
Felix didn't move. Just stood there in his perfectly tailored tuxedo, watching Wesley with an expression that could have been amusement or contempt—hard to tell which. The silence stretched, heavy and deliberate, until Wesley's confusion hardened into something sharper.
"These are your men, aren't they?" Wesley's voice dropped, realization dawning. "You arranged this. You didn't trust me to—" He stopped, jaw tightening. "You never trusted me at all."
Only then did Felix move, crossing the room with the casual confidence of someone who'd already won. He placed a hand on Wesley's shoulder—paternal, almost affectionate.
"Wesley, Wesley, Wesley." His voice dripped with condescension. "You're still so naive. So easily swayed." He squeezed. "I was worried, you see. Worried that this woman—" he gestured at me, "—would use her silver tongue to confuse you. To make you doubt your purpose. So I took the liberty of arranging... backup."
Wesley's jaw clenched. But he didn't pull away. "Uncle. What are you planning to do?"
My stomach dropped.
"Seriously?" I cut in, voice sharp with disbelief. "You're still not seeing it? Felix orchestrated this whole thing! He's been pulling your strings all night—probably longer—and you're standing there asking him what his plan is?" I looked at Wesley, willing him to understand. "He's using you. He's always been using you. And now he's brought in a different gang because he knew you'd fuck this up. He knew you weren't actually capable of—"
"Capable of revenge?" Felix finished for me, smile never wavering. "Capable of taking what's rightfully his?" He turned back to Wesley, voice dropping into something more intimate. Manipulative. "Wesley. Look at me. What did you invite her here for tonight? What was the purpose?"
Wesley's mouth opened. Closed.
"You wanted revenge," Felix continued, each word deliberate. "You wanted to reclaim everything that was stolen from you. You wanted to make them pay."
"Uncle—"
"Who froze your parents' trust fund?" Felix's voice turned sharp. Accusing. "Who stole millions of dollars that should have been yours? Who took control of your inheritance, your future, your life?" He leaned closer. "And who is this woman? This woman who spread her legs for your uncle—who fucked him for a piece of your family's fortune? Who discarded you like trash the moment a better deal came along?"
The words were vulgar. Crude. Designed to inflame.
Wesley said nothing. His face was unreadable.
My heart started pounding. Hard. Panicked.
Fuck.
Felix was here, in person, with armed men and that smile. Wesley was about to get his head twisted around all over again.
I couldn't stop that. Couldn't fight Felix's words and the Corsetti family at the same time.
My fingers found the necklace, gripping it so hard the metal bit into my palm. Lance. Where the hell are you? He'd been listening. He had security outside. So why wasn't he here yet?
Wesley was still silent. Staring at Felix with an expression I couldn't read.
Then, slowly, he lifted his head.
And his eyes were different. Sharper. Clearer. Like a fog had burned away.
"Felix." His voice dropped low, controlled. "Cut the bullshit. She didn't."