One Hundred & Twelve

One Hundred & Twelve
The press conference aired live on a large screen in Dante’s office.

He sat in his black suit, legs crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Nico stood beside him, arms folded, watching the broadcast.

When Sofia’s last words echoed through the speakers, Dante leaned back, the smile fading into something colder.
His fingers tapped once against the armrest.

“She always did love her delusions,” he murmured.

Nico chuckled under his breath. “She’s shaking. You can hear it.”

Dante’s gaze remained fixed on the screen. His voice dropped low.…  almost a whisper, but it carried enough steel to make Nico straighten.

“Bring her to me.”

Nico nodded once. “Understood, boss.”

He turned to leave, but the door opened before he could reach it.

Elena stepped in.

She was barefoot, wearing one of Dante’s shirts that fell mid-thigh, her hair still slightly damp from a shower. Despite the softness of her appearance, her eyes were sharp, cold...the same storm Dante carried in his own.

“I heard,” she said quietly. “She really does love to lie.”

Dante’s expression softened for a moment as his eyes met hers. “Of course she does. Sofia was born to lie.”

Elena came closer, crossing the room until she stood beside his desk. She glanced at the paused image on the screen...Sofia smiling for the cameras, Victor looming behind her like a shadow.

Elena’s jaw tightened. “She killed your name. She destroyed our family. She played with everyone’s life like it was nothing. I don’t want her brought to you.”

Dante looked up at her, one eyebrow lifting. “No?”

Her tone hardened, every word deliberate. “I want to deal with her myself.”

For a moment, silence filled the office.… a heavy, charged silence that crackled between them.

Nico’s gaze flicked from Dante to Elena, unsure if he should leave or stay.

Dante finally rose from his chair, walking around the desk until he stood directly in front of her. The distance between them was only a breath.

He searched her face, as though trying to read whether the fire in her eyes came from anger or vengeance.… or both.

“Elena,” he said quietly, “you don’t have to carry that weight.”

She met his gaze without flinching. “You taught me something, Dante. Sometimes peace doesn’t come by forgiving. Sometimes, it comes by burning everything that hurt you.”

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, his thumb lingering just under her jaw. “Then burn her slowly.”

Nico smirked from the corner of the room. “Guess I’ll cancel the extraction order, boss.”

Dante didn’t look away from Elena. “No. Keep it ready. She wants Sofia, she gets her.…  but on our terms.”

Elena tilted her head slightly. “And what terms are those?”

He leaned in, his voice a low whisper against her ear. “Make her beg for a mercy she doesn’t deserve.”

Outside the office, the city lights burned like molten fire beneath the night sky.
And while Sofia De Luca smiled for the cameras, spinning lies to the world, her enemies were already writing her end... in blood, in silence, and in vengeance that had been waiting too long.


The night was heavy.
A storm gathered over the city, thunder growling far in the distance.

Sofia sat alone in her private study, a glass of red wine trembling slightly in her hand.
The press conference had drained her.
Luciano hadn’t returned since morning, Victor hadn’t called, and for the first time in years... she felt fear.

Real fear.

The house was too quiet. Even the guards seemed to have vanished from their posts.

She exhaled, staring out the window into the blackness beyond the courtyard.
Then.…she saw headlights.

A sleek black SUV rolled up the driveway.
Her chest eased slightly. Finally, she thought. Victor or Luciano, coming to explain this mess.

The engine cut.
Doors slammed.
But when the first man stepped into the light... she didn’t recognize him.

He was tall, dressed in a black coat, expression unreadable. Behind him came two others. Silent. Masked. Moving with military precision.

Sofia stood quickly, backing away from the window. “Who the hell are you?”

No answer.

She turned toward the door, reaching for the phone on her desk... but the study door burst open before she could touch it.

The masked men entered swiftly. One grabbed her wrist, twisting hard enough to make her cry out. The phone crashed to the floor.

“Let go of me!” she screamed, trying to pull free. “Do you know who I am? I’ll have you all…”

A gloved hand slammed against her mouth.

“Quiet, Signora De Luca,” a voice hissed near her ear.”

They dragged her out of the mansion as thunder rolled overhead. Her heels scraped the marble floor, the hem of her dress tearing as she kicked and cursed.

No servants came. No guards moved.
Every soul on that property… gone.

The air was cold, thick with dust and the scent of rusted metal. Chains clinked softly as Sofia struggled against the chair she’d been tied to. Her hair was disheveled, mascara streaked from tears of rage.

A single light bulb swung above her, throwing jagged shadows across the walls.

She shouted hoarsely, “You bastards don’t know who you’re dealing with! Untie me! Do you hear me?!”

The metal door creaked open.

Bootsteps echoed on the concrete floor. Slow. Controlled.

Nico stepped into the light first, removing his gloves. His calm face gave nothing away.

“Well, well,” he said, voice low, taunting. “The queen of deceit herself. Sofia De Luca.”

Sofia glared up at him. “Where is Dante?” she spat. “If this is his doing…”

Nico chuckled, cutting her off. “If?”
He crouched beside her, eyes sharp. “You really don’t get it, do you? You took everything from him.…  his name, his freedom, his family. Did you think there’d be no debt to pay?”

Her lips trembled, but she forced out a scoff. “You're nothing but cowards. Dante could never really hurt me.”

Nico smiled thinly and leaned closer. “You keep saying that. Maybe it helps you sleep.”

He straightened. “She’s here,” he called over his shoulder.

The door opened again.…and Elena walked in.

Dressed in black, her hair tied back, she looked nothing like the grieving widow the world had pitied.

Her expression was carved from ice.

Sofia’s breath hitched. “You,” she whispered.

Elena’s steps echoed as she approached, her gaze never leaving Sofia’s. “It's good to see you...weak.”

“Your husband was a monster,” Sofia hissed. “You think you’re any better? You’ll drown in the same blood he spilled….”

Elena slapped  her before she could finish. The sound cracked through the room.

Sofia gasped, stunned. “You bitch…how dare you”

Elena slapped her hard again.

Elena’s voice was calm, deadly. “That’s the first and second. The third one comes if you talk again.”

Nico leaned against the wall, watching with quiet approval.

Sofia’s eyes darted between them, panic starting to break through her defiance. “You'll pay for this…”

Elena ignored her. “You wanted to ruin my life,” she said softly, circling the chair. “Now I’ll return the favor.… one piece at a time.”

She picked up a small blade from the table beside her.
The edge gleamed under the flickering light.

Sofia’s breathing quickened. “You wouldn’t…”

Elena bent close, her lips almost touching Sofia’s ear. “You made me feel what it's like to a 
widow.”

She paused. “Now I’ll make you wish you were one.”

The first cut was shallow... across Sofia’s arm. A warning.
She screamed, thrashing, the chair clanging against the concrete.

Nico didn’t flinch.
Elena didn’t stop.

“Tell me,” Elena said, voice steady as she wiped the blade clean. “How does it feel.. To be powerless. You tried to kill my husband. You killed the man he considered his brother and you framed it for it… I will make you pay for messing with my family.”

Sofia’s lips quivered, blood trickling down her arm. “You… you don’t scare me…”

Elena smiled faintly. “Not yet.”

She pressed the blade again, slower this time. Sofia screamed louder.

It went on like that…. the storm outside roaring, thunder masking the sounds of vengeance inside.

After several minutes, Sofia’s resistance crumbled. Her voice broke into sobs. “You stole what was mine… Dante was mine first… You.. Stole..

Elena lowered the blade, her eyes dark with fury and heartbreak.

“Stole,” she whispered. “He was never yours… your bitch.

She stood, tossing the blade aside. “Take her away,” she ordered.

Nico nodded. The men untied Sofia only to drag her upright, her legs too weak to stand.

As they pulled her toward the door, Sofia turned her tear-streaked face toward Elena.

“You think you’ve won?” she rasped. “You’ll never have peace with that man. He’s cursed….”

Elena leaned close, voice like poison.

“So am I.”

Then she turned and walked out, leaving Sofia’s screams echoing in the empty warehouse as the storm broke overhead... rain hammering down like the city itself was cleansing its sins.