Chapter 73
MIRABELLA
Itâs been over one hundred and forty eight hours since my husband left for Mexico in search of my father, and itâs been forty eight hours since he arrived at the Denaro estate but has refused to come and see meâhis family.
Heâs stalling.
Something must be keeping him away.
Perhaps he discovered Helenâs visit and the reason behind it. Maybe heâs stalling in order to get his act right, tighten loose ends, and manufacture more ways to manipulate the situation. To manipulate me.
As heartbreaking as it is, I guess itâs time I embraced the true nature of the man I married.
It is true that he might love me, but his affection for me doesnât change the fact that he is a monster through and through.
Itâs another day, and Iâm once again setting up the table for lunch. It was his request; that I make him a nice meal and wait for his return.
I have made nice meals two days in a row, and heâs yet to come to me.
Today will be the last.
If he doesnât come home today, Iâll know all I need to know.
As though he listens to my thoughts, the front door rattles open, revealing my husbandâs brooding form in all his sixâfootâfive, staring down at me
with a smile.
Thinning my lips, Toffer him a small smile, one that is polite rather than excited.
With a few strides forward, Matteo soon gets to me, the heat of his body radiating so thoroughly it almost lulls me to sleep.
âI missed you, baby,â he leans down, sorting to kiss my lips. I shift backwards and create a small distance between us.
I whisper. âAnd yet, you stayed away for days
âLapologize,â he replies, his hand disappearing into any hair, stroking gently.
âThereâs no need for your apology,â I retort. âI made you a nice meal as per your request. You can go ahead and eat with your kids while I go down to the holding cell and speak to my father.â
I make a move to step away, he grasps at my wrist. âMirabella, aid something
I cut him off. âjust eat.â
As I make my othe
my way through the excruciatingly long hallway, the echoes of my footsteps send my heart into fear.
I have come a long way in life, yet, I find that 1 still fear the man who is meant to be my father.
Heâs so unpredictable, so confusing. Whenever I find myself in his presence or even think of him, 1 cower. And I loathe it
In this moment, when I walk into the holding cell and my eyes Lund on my father whoâs restrained to an iron chair, I feel a rush of blood in my
veins
I am finally breathing.
He cannot hurt me anymore. Iâm stronger than he could ever imagine.
Walking to the end of the large room, I pull another iron chair with me, the legs scraping across the roughly plastered floor. And when Iâm in front of the restrained man, I finally stop, throwing myself on the seat with a sigh
We stay silentâmy father and I. Itâs in silence that we stare at one another, the tension in the air thickening in ways that unnerves the prisoner. His stoic expression is quick to morph into confusion, and then, into mischief.
A maniacally smile mars his face.
I gulp.
1/3
He asks, âdo you expect an apology from me, Mirabella? Is that why your eyes are filled with so much anticipation?â
âYou killed my mother.â I whisper, biting down on my bottom lip. âAnd then you killed my sister,â
He chuckles. âYour mother died because she poked her nose where it didnât belong. And your sister killed herself right in front of you. If you were such a hero, then you should have saved her lifeâ
Tears spring out of my eyes, âyou ruined them.â
âThis world ruined melle roars. âBut do you see me crying about it? Do you see me begging to be saved?â
âMy mother and sister did not deserve what you did to them. My voice trembles.
âMe too, Mirabela, 1 did not deserve what was done to me. I am human too.
I cut him off with a scream. âI donât care!â
Silence forms in the atmosphere. An uncomfortable silence.
Marceloâs eyes soon appear dark with rage and spite. He throws his head from left to right, his eyes moving rapidly as though assessing me.
I shift uncomfortably.
âWhat?â I grit,
He breathes out a sigh, attempting to lean forward. The retrains hold him back. âThe same things which were done to me, were done to your husband. Do you not care for him? Do you not see that heâs just like me?â
Low laughter rumbles in my throat. âMy husband is nothing and will never be anything like youâ
His lips tip up at the corner and form into a smirk. âHe has so coldly trapped you in this bubble where you delude yourself with the idea that happiness exists for people like youâ He laughs, the frequency of his laughter filled with mockery. âYou donât even know the man you married.â
âI know him well enough,â I whisper, tears at the brim of my eyes. âI know him enough to know that he loves me wholeheartedly and that heâd do anything to make me happy, and that he wants to protect me from people like youâ
âAnd that heâd kill anyone who he perceives as a threat to your union? Did you know that part? My father adds, a brow shooting up,
What
âI was not an accident or even a mistake like he claims.
âIf youâre going to continue speaking in riddles, then I donât have anything else to say to youâ
âPablo,â he breathes âHis death was not a mistake. Your husband loved him as a brother and a friend, but when he discovered that you were beginning to share something deeper than what you have with him with Pablo, he just had to take him out.â
âYouâre insane.â I growl
Father laughs. âAnd yet, you are married to the most insane man on the planet,â
in the way
His
gun was
Iâm rapidly poking my chest while I speak, my breathing coming out sharp and quick. âHe was aiming for me and Pablo gor Father tiks. âHow could he aim for you, Mirabella! Do you not see that he does not just love you, he worships you. He breathes y aimed at the person he perceived to be a threat to your relationship. Think about it, child.â
When those words leave his lips, my mind drags back to Helenâto what she said.
Matteo would do anything to make sure any threat to our relationship is eradicated.
But he wouldnât do that to Pablo. That was his closest friend.
He wouldnâtâ¦
He
wouldnâtâ¦
He wouldnâtâ¦
I donât realize that I am hyperventilating until my fatherâs laughter, filled with mockery, echoes across the room. âNow child, why donât you go up to your husband and demand answers. Ask him who he truly is
you.
Chapter 78
And like a child under her fatherâs spell, I stumble out of the holding cell
And I only have one thought
What would now become of my marriage!
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