Chapter 106 -THE DOUBLE CROSS
Matteo had always believed betrayal was a matter of timing.
You didn’t avoid it—you anticipated it, shaped it, used it as leverage before it could be used against you. Loyalty, in his mind, was never real. It was rented. And he had paid Venturi well.
Or so he thought.
The meeting was scheduled at dawn, in an unfinished high-rise overlooking the river. Concrete floors. Exposed beams. No cameras. Neutral ground—at least on paper. Matteo arrived flanked by six men, all armed, all veterans. He wore confidence like armor.
Venturi was late.
That should have been the first warning.
“Patience,” Matteo said when one of his men shifted uneasily. “Men who rush are men who die.”
But even as he spoke, something itched at the base of his skull.
Venturi finally appeared—alone, hands visible, expression apologetic. A performance. Matteo recognized it instantly and dismissed it just as quickly.
“Apologies,” Venturi said. “Delays at the port.”
“Of course,” Matteo replied coolly. “Sit.”
Venturi didn’t.
Instead, he smiled.
A small thing. Almost polite.
“You know,” Venturi said, “I admired Lorenzo. He had principles.”
Matteo’s eyes hardened. “You’re here because principles lost him his throne.”
“Or because he threatened yours,” Venturi countered.
The air shifted.
Matteo gestured subtly to his men. Fingers tightened on triggers.
Venturi raised a hand. “Before you do something regrettable, you should know—this meeting was never about alliance.”
Matteo laughed. “Everything is about alliance.”
“No,” Venturi said softly. “This is about removal.”
The windows exploded inward.
Gunfire ripped through the concrete shell. Two of Matteo’s men went down instantly, blood spraying across unfinished walls. Chaos erupted—shouts, return fire, bodies scrambling for cover.
“VENTURI!” Matteo roared.
Venturi had already moved—back, away, untouched. His men poured in from stairwells and scaffolding, dozens of them, disciplined and precise.
This wasn’t a skirmish.
It was an execution.
Matteo ducked behind a support pillar as bullets chewed through concrete inches from his head. His phone buzzed violently in his pocket—alerts stacking, systems collapsing.
Asset seizures. Communications blackouts. Routes burned.
Venturi had struck everywhere at once.
“You declared war too loudly,” Venturi’s voice echoed through the space. “You reminded the world the De Lucas still mattered.”
A mistake.
Matteo fired blindly, rage boiling. “You were nothing without us!”
Venturi laughed. “And now you are nothing with us.”
Minutes felt like hours. When the gunfire stopped, the floor was slick with blood. Matteo’s surviving men were pinned down or dead. Venturi’s forces melted back into shadow as quickly as they’d appeared.
Venturi approached slowly, boots crunching over debris.
“I never intended to share power,” he said conversationally. “Only to let you weaken your family first.”
Matteo glared up at him, chest heaving. “You’ll regret this.”
Venturi crouched, meeting his gaze. “No. I’ll profit from it.”
He stood and turned away. “Leave him alive. For now. A king without a kingdom is far more useful.”
Venturi disappeared.
Silence fell—broken only by Matteo’s ragged breathing.
Elsewhere, Isabella watched the news alerts cascade across Lorenzo’s phone.
“Venturi just hit Matteo’s infrastructure,” Lorenzo said slowly. “Everywhere. Ports. Accounts. Lieutenants.”
Isabella’s stomach tightened. “He was never loyal.”
“No,” Lorenzo agreed. “He was patient.”
She looked up at him. “What does this mean?”
Lorenzo’s expression darkened. “It means Matteo just learned what I already did.”
“That power built on fear collapses the moment fear finds a better master.”
Isabella exhaled shakily. “And now?”
Lorenzo stared out the window, jaw set. “Now the war stops being theoretical.”
Back at the high-rise, Matteo dragged himself to his feet, blood streaking his sleeve. Rage burned brighter than pain.
Venturi had crossed him.
And Matteo De Luca did not forgive.
Loyalty, he now understood, wasn’t just an illusion.
It was a weapon.
And it had just been turned on him.