Chapter 187

Chapter 187
Antonio hung his head, defeat etched into the lines of his face. The powerful mafia don who had once commanded respect with a single glance now looked broken and old. The silence in the living room was deafening as he finally spoke.

"Tell everyone the party is over. There will be no engagement ceremony today."

His words fell like stones in still water, rippling through the tension-filled room. Dante glanced around, his jaw tight, muscles working beneath his skin. He straightened his designer suit with a quick tug before nodding and leaving to dismiss the guests. The click of the door behind him seemed unnaturally loud.

Victoria stood protectively near Franco, her perfectly manicured hand resting on his shoulder. She looked at her son with a mixture of disappointment and fierce maternal fury, her eyes darting between him and Antonio.

"He's just a boy," she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of those simple words.

Franco remained frozen, his eyes fixed on me.

The heavy oak door burst open again, the handle slamming against the wall with enough force to leave a mark. Matteo stormed in, his face twisted with rage, chest heaving as though he'd run the entire way.

"You killed our brother for him?" he spat, jabbing a finger toward Franco, who flinched visibly at the accusation.

Franco opened his mouth to speak, his throat working nervously, but Victoria shot him a warning glare that silenced him instantly.

"Yes!" Antonio roared suddenly, his fist slamming against the wall hard enough to make the nearby paintings tremble. "I am guilty! I regret it and I miss my son!"

Matteo threw his phone against the marble floor, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the tense room.

"Look at me!" he demanded, stepping closer to his father until they were almost nose to nose. "Look me in the eyes when you talk about him. You don't get to say his name while looking at the floor."

Antonio's shoulders slumped further, aging years in seconds, but he raised his bloodshot eyes to meet his son's furious gaze. The vulnerability there was something I'd never expected to see in the fearsome mafia boss.

Franco shifted awkwardly, the expensive fabric of his suit rustling as he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Dad. I never meant—"

"Get him out of my sight," Antonio ordered Victoria without looking at Franco, his voice flat and dead. "Now."

Victoria grabbed her son's arm, her red nails digging into his skin like talons as she pulled him toward the door. Franco stumbled slightly, his usual swagger completely absent.

Antonio turned to me, his expression hardening into something more familiar – authority and dismissal. "You too, Beatrice. Leave us. This is family business."

I sighed, oddly relieved to be dismissed from this nightmare of shattered alliances and raw emotions. As I moved toward the door, Matteo's eyes met mine. He didn't speak, but his gaze held something I couldn't quite read—a mixture of anger, gratitude, and something deeper that made my stomach twist with unidentified emotion.

In the hallway, Victoria and Franco stood waiting for the elevator, tension radiating between them like heat. When Victoria saw me, she marched over.

"Why would you do this?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "My son finally had what he deserved, and you took it from him. You've always been jealous of what we have."

I straightened my spine, refusing to be intimidated by her. "Ask your son if he blackmailed me into sleeping with him."

Victoria's face paled beneath her perfect makeup, the blush on her cheeks suddenly appearing garish against her bloodless skin. She turned to Franco, who suddenly found the intricate pattern of the floor fascinating. "Franco?"

He wouldn't meet her eyes, his silence damning him more effectively than any confession. Without another word, mother and son walked away, leaving me alone in the vast hallway with only the echoes of their retreating footsteps for company.

Dante and Salvatore emerged from the room next, their faces masks of professionalism as they headed toward the grand staircase to bid farewell to the guests. Their shoulders were stiff with unresolved tension.

"We'll handle the guests," Dante said, his voice flat and controlled. Salvatore nodded in agreement, though his eyes lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary.

Matteo was the last to exit, his pace slower as he approached me.

"I don't have words," he said quietly, running a hand through his dark hair. "But thank you." He paused, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I'm sorry for how I treated you before. I was—" He shook his head, unable to finish. "I need time to process all this."

Before I could respond, he hurried down the hallway after his brothers.

I was about to leave when I heard voices drifting from the living room – one angry, one almost pleading. Curiosity got the better of me, and I moved closer to the partially open door, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps.

"You killed my son for that boy," Lydia was saying, her voice dripping with venom.

At the mention of "Rossi family," my blood ran cold, a chill racing down my spine. I pressed myself against the wall, my heart hammering so loudly I feared they might hear it as I strained to catch every word.

"Please," Lydia's voice had dropped to an almost pleading tone, vulnerability breaking through her usual icy demeanor. "Tell me where my son's body is. As a mother, I have the right to know. Let me give him a proper burial."

I couldn't contain myself anymore. The mention of Enzo's body, the realization that they didn't even know where he was buried, broke something inside me. I pushed the door open and stormed in, my hands shaking.

"Where is his body?" I demanded, my voice trembling with emotion that surprised even me.

Antonio and Lydia turned to me, startled by my intrusion, their momentary expressions of shock quickly replaced by anger.

"You can't just hide the body of a Mafia family member," I continued, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "He deserves respect, even in death."

Antonio's face darkened with rage, the color rising from his neck to his cheeks like a tide of blood. "I can do whatever I want. He was my son, not yours."

"This is all because of you," he spat, taking a threatening step toward me, his massive frame suddenly intimidating in the spacious room. "If you hadn't befriended that Rossi remnant, my son wouldn't have helped him. He wouldn't be dead."

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat painful against my ribs.

"Get out," Antonio growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You're banned from my property."

I stood my ground, even as fear coursed through me like ice water. "You can't just—"

"GET OUT!" he roared, his face contorted with grief and fury, spittle flying from his lips as he took another step forward.