Chapter 16

Serena

I wash my face, the cold water doing little to calm me. Salvatore confessed his love for me in front of them—our parents, the most judgmental people I know.

The anger I feel toward him is slowly fading, replaced by hope. It felt good to confront my father, to tell him off. I saw no point in it before, but it's good that Salvatore made me face the music.

Just as I'm drying my face with a towel, the door opens. Antonio, Salvatore’s father, walks in. His expression is downright sinister, he looks like the devil. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, it reeks of vodka.

“What are you doing here?” I say.

He walks closer, his hand reaching out to caress my slim waist. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” he breathes.

“What the hell?” I push him off, my heart racing. “Get back to your senses.”

I turn to leave, but he grabs my hand, yanking me back against his body. “I’ve been waiting for so fucking long for him to love you, girl. You have no idea.”

His hands roam all over my body, and I feel bile rising in my throat. I manage to open the door and flee, but he’s right behind me. He throws his body on top of mine, humping my back like a dog.

“Finally, finally, finally,” he moans. “I was starting to fear it would never happen. But it did. God, how happy I am that it did.”

“What happened?” I bellow, trying to shake him off. His hand immediately goes over my mouth, his grip firm.

“That he fell in love with you, stupid girl,” he hisses, biting my cheek hard. I gag under his hand, he smells awful, and his touch disgusts me.

“I’m going to steal you from him, like he stole Victoria away from me,” he babbles with madness. “Yes, he’s going to know how it feels for his own flesh and blood to take away the love of his life.”

Victoria. Victoria is Salvatore’s mother’s name. The realization floors me, and I feel like I’m going to pass out. I’m horrified at what he is insinuating.

Antonio continues to feel me up as he talks more nonsense, his words are bordering on insanity. "Salvatore, that golden boy. Always better than me. Victoria used to say it all the time. 'He's better, he's bigger,' she'd taunt me. But he'll find out today. He'll find out what it feels like."

I struggle beneath him, but his grip is relentless. His laughter is maniacal. "You were always meant for me, Serena. Not him. Me. He married you for convenience, I blessed the marriage for this very moment. "

His hands wander to my ass, spanking it, and I feel a surge of panic. His other hand is trying to get inside my dress, wanting to feel my tits. He is suffocating me, I feel like I’m drowning, and I know I have to act quickly. I pray that he won’t rape me. I gather all my strength, managing to escape his arms for a moment. I use it to my advantage, every second counts. My hand reaches out to knock a nearby vase to the ground.

"Help! Salvatore!" I scream as loud as I can.

Antonio's hand clamps over my mouth again, his eyes wild with rage. "Shut up, you little bitch. No one can save you now."

With one last burst of adrenaline, I grab the vase and swing it at his head, where it shatters. Shards of glass protrude from his forehead. The impact is sickening, and he staggers back, clutching his skull. Blood drips all over his face, he’s unsteady on his feet.

"Salvatore!" I scream again, louder this time.

Antonio's expression shifts from rage to confusion as he collapses to the floor, unconscious. I stand there, panting and shaking. The room is spinning, and I can barely process what just happened.

Suddenly, Salvatore rushes up the stairs. He takes in the scene, his gaze shifting from me to his father on the floor.

"Serena," he breathes, rushing to my side. "Are you okay?"

I nod, tears streaming down my face as I cling to him. "He...he tried to..."

Salvatore's jaw tightens. "He won't touch you again," he growls dangerously low. "I promise you that."

Salvatore's eyes burn with a fury I've never seen before. He walks over to his barely conscious father, kneeling down beside him. Without hesitation, he spits in Antonio's face, disgust all over his features. "You always blamed me," he snarls. "Blamed me for your pedophilic wife assaulting me."

Antonio's eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused. Salvatore reaches behind his back, pulling out a gun from the waistband of his pants. Is he about to shoot his father for me?

"But touching my wife?" Salvatore hisses like an animal. "Trying to assault her like my mother did to me? That's your deadly mistake."

He presses the barrel of the gun against Antonio's groin hard. Antonio tries to speak, his hands desperately trying to snatch the gun from Salvatore’s hand, but before he can utter a word, Salvatore pulls the trigger.

The sound is deafening. Antonio's body jerks violently, letting out a choked scream. Blood pools beneath him, spreading quickly across the floor. There’s a hole where his pelvis is supposed to be, and I try not to vomit.

Salvatore stands, his chest heaving, the gun still in his hand. He looks down at his father with satisfaction, he’s happy that he killed him. "No one touches my wife," he says quietly. "No one."

I look up at him, my voice barely a whisper. "Your mother? What...?"

He presses a finger to my lips, shushing me gently. "You'll know everything soon," he promises, his voice softer now, but still tinged with the darkness of the moment.

Before I can process his words, Antonio's guards rush up the stairs, their faces shocked. I brace myself for the inevitable chaos, but they simply stand there, waiting for Salvatore's command.

"Clean everything up," Salvatore orders. "No trace. Cause of death: heart attack. Start planning the funeral."

The guards nod, immediately getting to work. The efficiency with which they move is chilling. I watch them for a moment, then turn my gaze back to Salvatore. He releases me, but his hand remains on my arm, grounding me.

I think back to my life, the constant presence of gore and violence. Yes, they are businessmen, but there are things they do that cannot be talked about. They are not the mafia, nor are they involved in the underground, but no one reaches where they are without blood on their hands. I've become numb to it, immune to the violence and corruption that surrounds us. So much so that all I can think about after my husband murdered his father, is how much I want to fuck him.

But then, a cold numbness spread through me as I remember the truth about his mother. His own mother touched him?

I stand there, in shock. When Salvatore tried to open up about his past, I dismissed it as a sob story. I cut him off, telling him I wasn’t interested. I glance at him, feeling so much guilt. The gravity of what we will discuss next is insane. It will change the way I look back at these two years completely.

My thoughts spiral. How could I have been so dismissive? The man who stands before me, the man who just saved me from his father, has been through hell and back.

What will he reveal? And how will I handle it? I don’t know how much I can stomach, but I have to know. I owe it to him, and to myself.