Chapter 94: Chapter ninety four

Rafaello’s POV

“What the hell is this?” I growled, my fingers closing around Victoria’s wrist as heat flared up my arm, peeling her off me and shoving her a step back.

“Mistress of hell making her grand entrance, bro,” Santino mocked.

I turned, the movement sharp enough to pull a breath from my chest, eyes snapping to the spot where Alora had been standing. Nothing but empty space greeted me, the air there feeling colder, thinner, and all I caught was a glimpse of Macko climbing the stairs after her, his footsteps echoing against the marble before fading into nothing.

My chest tightened, ribs locking as if something heavy had settled there and refused to move. Guilt pressed first, then anger, then a regret I had buried so deep it came back jagged, scraping on the way up.

“Come with me,” I ordered, my hand finding Victoria’s again, grip firmer, impatience bleeding into force before I could stop it.

“Rafe, you have to stop doing this every time you want to talk to me,” she whined.

I didn’t respond. The corridor stretched longer than usual as I dragged her along, the sound of her heels striking the floor drilling into my skull, until I shoved her into my office and slammed the door shut behind us. The click of the lock sounded final, too loud in the quiet room, and only then did I let go.

“Why are you here?” I demanded.

“I’m your fiancée. Soon to be your wife. I should be here.”

My jaw locked so hard it ached, tension crawling up the sides of my neck.

In one swift movement, my hand closed around her throat, not crushing but deliberate, my thumb pressing into warm skin, feeling her pulse jump under my palm.

“Cut the crap, Victoria,” I said low. “Why are you here?”

The moment I released her, she gasped, coughing as she staggered back, drawing in air like she had nearly forgotten how.

“You have two seconds,” I warned. “Or I throw you out.”

“I’m in danger, Rafe.” Her voice dropped, losing its edge as her shoulders drew inward, “The minute our engagement went public, I started receiving death threats. Unknown people.”

I stepped back, shoving my hands into my pockets before they acted on instinct, a humorless chuckle slipping out as I shook my head.

“And you expect me to believe that?”

Without hesitation, she closed the distance between us, invading my space, perfume hitting sharp and familiar, her eyes locking onto mine.

“I don’t expect anything,” she said quietly. “Four years ago, I told you the same thing. You didn’t listen until I—”

She stopped herself, swallowed, her throat working hard as her gaze flickered away for half a second, “Never mind. You wouldn’t understand.”

My fists clenched inside my pockets, nails biting into skin.

“Say it,” I demanded.

“I lost our babies,” she said, her voice cracking, thin and brittle as glass under pressure. “Because they forced me. I tried to tell you. I tried.”

The room seemed to shrink, the hum of electricity in the walls growing louder as my ears rang softly. For a brief, unwanted moment, an image pushed forward of something that never had the chance to exist, and I crushed it just as fast, forcing my breathing steady.

“What evidence do you have?” I asked, my voice flat, too controlled to be natural.

She pulled out her phone. “Here. Recent messages. I also have proof from four years ago. I saved everything.”

I scanned the threats, my eyes tracking patterns, dates, language, while my pulse thudded steadily in my throat, keeping my face unreadable.

“Luka,” I called.

The door opened. His gaze flicked from me to Victoria before he masked whatever crossed his face.

“Yes, Don.”

“Verify this. Now.”

He took the phone and moved to the laptop.

I gestured for Victoria to sit while I leaned against the wall, the cool surface pressing through my shirt as seconds dragged, each one heavier than the last.

Twenty minutes later, Luka straightened.

“She’s telling the truth. Unknown origin. Encrypted routing. Activity traces back six years. It matches her timeline.”

“Good,” I said calmly.

Luka handed back the phone and left.

Victoria’s eyes lit up. Not with relief, but with something sharper, a spark of victory she failed to hide.

“Does this mean you believe me?”

“I’ll conduct further investigations.”

“Can I stay until then?”

“No.”

“Rafe—”

“I’ll arrange a house. Guards included. Four men. Nico in charge.”

“But—”

The door clicked open.

Santino walked in, smirking as he dropped into the chair opposite Victoria.

“Hey, boss.”

She scoffed. “Am I invisible? Do you know who I am to Rafe—”

“I don’t greet entitled bitches with daddy issues,” Santino shot back.

“That’s enough,” I warned.

Her phone rang. She stared at the screen, her fingers tightening around it before she silenced the call. Seconds later, it rang again, and she declined it without looking up.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“No one. A friend.”

“Friend,” Santino echoed, amused.

“Luka will escort you to the guest room,” I said. “Then you’re moving today.”

Santino left to make arrangements.

“Rafe,” she said softly, “can’t you let the past rest? Our children wouldn’t want you treating their mother like this.”

Something snapped tight in my chest, sharp and immediate.

“How dare you,” I said quietly. “They deserved better than you.”

“Is this about that classless woman—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

My voice thundered through the room, raw enough to make even me pause, “You will not speak about her. Not today. Not ever.”

The door flew open as Luka and Santino returned.

“Get her out of my sight,” I said. “Before I do something permanent.”

Luka dragged her out as she struggled, the scrape of her heels against the floor echoing long after she disappeared down the hall, until silence settled in its place.

I dragged a hand down my face, exhaustion settling heavy behind my eyes.

“Man,” Santino said, leaning back, “your life is a damn movie trailer. I need popcorn.”

“Fuck,” I muttered, sinking into my chair, the leather creaking under my weight.

“You should’ve let her stay.”

“You know I can’t,” I snapped. “Alora’s already broken.”

“You already did the damage,” he replied. “And you saw that call. She’s hiding something.”

I did know, and the awareness sat like a stone in my gut, heavy and unwelcome.

“Keep your enemies close,” Santino continued. “You might save your marriage, and finally tell Alora the truth.”

“I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me,” I admitted, the words tasting bitter.

“So,” he said, smirking slightly, “is she staying?”

I didn’t answer, because every option felt like choosing which part of my life I was willing to burn.

Author’s Note 🖤

Quick heads-up: I’ve made changes to the previous three chapters, please check them out so this one flows smoothly.

Now… this chapter.

The ring. The silence. The choices.

Who are you side-eyeing right now? 👀🔥

Drop it in the comments.