Chapter 93 The Last Decision He Ever Made
Valentina
The elevator ride down was quiet—too quiet, considering where we were going and who we were about to face.
Arianna.
Queen of Delusion. Duchess of Entitlement. And unfortunately, the mother of a child she didn’t seem to give two shits about.
When the doors slid open, Matteo stepped out first, motioning for me to stay behind him as we approached the suite. But I didn’t. I walked right beside him, matching his stride like we were equals—because we were. In more ways than either of us were ready to admit.
A nurse saw us coming and gave a quick nod. “She’s awake and already had her pain meds. Bit… testy this morning.”
No shit.
Matteo opened the door.
Arianna was sitting upright in bed, legs crossed beneath her fancy, hotel-tier breakfast tray. Croissants. Fruit. Fresh juice. Probably requested a damn mimosa and got mad when they said no.
She looked up, all dramatic flair and biting sarcasm.
“Well it’s about damn time. Where the hell has everyone been? I just had a fucking baby. Does no one care?”
I didn’t blink. Just let the venom coat my voice like honey.
“About as much as you care about that baby.”
Her brows lifted. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s what I thought.”
I stepped closer, smiling without warmth. “Don’t mistake my restraint for submission, sweetheart. I can—and will—teach you a lesson. I’ve been very generous with handing them out lately.”
Matteo let out a low chuckle behind me. “No lies were told there.”
Arianna scowled, shifting in bed with a wince. “Where the hell is Luca? He still hasn’t shown up. I pushed his baby out of my vagina—the least he could do is offer some support for something he wanted.”
Matteo’s jaw ticked. “Yeah… about that.” He paused, “he won’t be showing up at all.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why the fuck not?”
He gestured toward me, casual and cool. “Did you happen to notice Valentina’s face?”
Arianna gave me a lazy once-over. “She probably deserved it.”
My fingers twitched.
Matteo, to his credit, stayed eerily calm. “Well, if by ‘deserved it’ you mean walking in on your husband fucking a nurse in one of the recovery rooms… then sure.”
Arianna blinked. “He was what?!”
I stepped forward, cutting in, my voice low and steady. “Yeah. On my way back to your room—after checking on your baby in the NICU—I walked into the wrong suite. And found Luca, pants down, plowing a nurse over the bed like it was some kind of porno set.”
Arianna’s mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again.
“And when he saw me,” I continued, “he decided he needed to knock me across the room for it.”
Matteo’s voice was like steel sliding into a sheath. “And that… that was the last decision he ever made.”
Her face drained of color. “What do you mean?”
I tilted my head. “Are you really this fucking dumb?”
Matteo folded his arms, gaze flat. “He laid his hands on my wife. So now, you’re a single mother. As of… what would you say, Valentina? Around ten p.m. last night?”
I didn’t flinch. “Give or take.”
Arianna looked between us, panic slowly dawning behind her fury. “You killed him?”
Matteo gave a slow, merciless smile. “I cleaned up a mess. You’re welcome.”
Arianna’s face crumpled, lips parting in disbelief.
“You killed him,” she whispered. “You actually—oh my God.”
Matteo didn’t blink. “God had nothing to do with it.”
She stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “And you’re just okay with this? You’re fine being married to a monster?”
I smiled sweetly. “Oh honey. I’m not married to a monster. I am one.”
Her mouth opened again, but nothing came out. She blinked, like she was trying to compute a version of reality where we weren’t just the wolves at the door—we were the door.
“Well…” she finally said, swallowing thickly. “What’s going to happen to me?”
Matteo raised a brow. “What do you think is going to happen to you?”
“I mean…” Her hands fluttered as she gestured helplessly. “He promised me I’d never have to work again. That he’d give me everything I wanted. We were married. Doesn’t he have, like a will or… life insurance? Or some kind of—”
Matteo threw his head back and laughed. Loud. Sharp. Cruel.
“Oh, Arianna. Sweetheart.” He looked down at her like she was a child asking where the Easter Bunny lived. “Let me break a few things down for you.”
She crossed her arms defensively, but didn’t interrupt.
“First off—Luca had nothing. In case you haven’t been paying attention these last few weeks when you couldn’t even afford a Happy Meal, not a damn thing you’ve ever benefited from was his. Everything—everything—came from me. From this family. Luca? He was a leech. A liability. An anchor we were long overdue to cut.”
Her lip curled. “But I’m his wife—”
“Which means exactly nothing,” Matteo snapped. “Especially when it comes to our world. There are no trust funds waiting for gold-diggers who can’t even pretend to be loyal for a full week after giving birth.”
Her jaw dropped.
“And life insurance?” he continued, smirking. “That’s adorable. You think people in our line of work can just call up State Farm and take out a policy? Let me enlighten you. Even if he had one, which he didn’t, you’d need a body to cash it out. And without that body? You’d be waiting seven years to have him declared legally dead. Seven. And guess what? You’d have to keep paying into the policy that entire time just to keep it from lapsing.”
“I…” Arianna looked like a child being told Santa wasn’t real.
“But don’t worry,” Matteo said, voice slick with poison. “We’re not totally heartless.”
She looked up, hopefully.
“That baby is technically Genovese blood. Kind of. A few rungs down the ladder. But still close enough that I’m not about to let her starve or grow up in a cockroach-infested shoebox.”
Arianna squinted. “So… what are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’re getting eighteen years of child support. Up front. No strings. So you can raise the girl properly.”
“I want ten million,” she said immediately, lifting her chin.
Matteo stared at her for a full second. Then laughed again—quieter this time, but even more condescending.
“This isn’t a negotiation. You’ll receive three million. It’s already in a private account under your name, with a debit card and routing number. Taxes have been handled. The card is on the table.”
Her jaw fell open. “You can’t be serious—”
“I’m being generous,” Matteo snapped. “More generous than Luca ever was. More generous than you deserve. And before you start whining about being left alone, we’ll be back tomorrow to escort you to the mansion. You’ll stay there until the baby’s discharged.”