Page 119
Story: Mafia King of Lies
“But you can’t,” she chokes out, shaking her head. “You can’t take it back! My brother is dead, and you are the one to blame. Oh my God, all those times you held me and tried to comfort me. The day in my studio…”
Her breathing is uneven, her body trembling like she’s about to collapse under the weight of it all.
I take a step toward her, gentler this time, not wanting to alarm her. “Maria?—”
She turns on her heel and runs as if she can outrun the truth. She dives into the bathroom, a sanctuary where she can be free of my presence. A second later, the door slams shut. I could follow after her, but I know she needs the space. She needs time to process.
I hear the lock click into place, and I know she’s not coming out of there any time soon. And I can’t be the one to force her out. I stand there, staring at the door, my heart pounding, my hands clenched at my sides.
So I wait.
Hours pass. The sun dips below the horizon, casting the room in darkness, but she stays locked behind that door. And I,Matteo Davacalli, a man who has commanded armies, torn apart empires, and walked through fire, can do nothing but wait.
Every so often, I knock. Hoping—praying—she will let me in.
I sit down by the door, leaning my back against the hardwood, trying to listen to what’s happening on the other side.
“Maria.”
Silence.
I try again. “Please, let me in.”
Nothing.
I exhale sharply, resting the back of my head against the wood. I don’t deserve to be on the other side of this door with her. I don’t deserve her forgiveness. But I can’t fucking lose her. She can hate me, scream at me, or beat me if she wants to. But I refuse to lose her.
“I know you’re not going to open the door, and you’re right, you shouldn’t. What I did—accident or not—was unforgivable. I shattered your family, and there’s no undoing that. I destroyed everything.”
The words feel heavy, strained. My throat is tight, my chest burning from the weight of the guilt that I have carried with me for months.
“I know you may not want to hear this, but I need you to know the truth. I’m not making excuses for what I did. It was my gun—and I was the one who pulled the trigger. We got bad intel about a shipment in Florence possibly being stolen. We were given the address of a warehouse and thought we were going to meet the smugglers, but it turns out we were wrong. There was a mistake that night. A fatal one.”
I pause, drawing in a breath.
“Antonio wasn’t supposed to be there.”
Silence.
Still, I go on.
“We thought we were walking in to reclaim what was stolen from us—almost twenty million dollars’ worth of firearms. We came in there with a lot of heat and every intention of putting these thieves down. And when I saw the men, I thought it was them—the ones who took our shipment. But it was your brother—Antonio and his men,” I say, my voice tightens. “The place was filled with gas. Everyone had their faces covered. The visibility was shit. I didn’t even know who we were fighting.”
I exhale shakily, my hands curling into fists. “Daniele was grabbed—a gun to his head. I had no choice but to protect him. I aimed, but before I could fire, someone hit me from behind. We hit the ground—fighting. I didn’t know who it was. I just reacted.”
I pause, eyes burning. “Your brother attacked me, Maria. I fought back. I had no idea it was him.”
My breath stutters. “The gun was between us. We were both holding it. And then?—”
I close my eyes, swallowing past the ache in my throat. “The shot went off.”
My throat burns as I force out the words. “By the time I saw his face… he was already on the floor, bleeding out from my bullet.”
Silence stretches between us again, but this time, it feels different. I don’t know if she believes me. I don’t know if this changes anything. I can only hope she opens the door and allows me the chance to earn her forgiveness—even if it takes the rest of my life.
For months, I’ve carried this guilt alone. I have lived with the weight of that night, with the knowledge that I stole a brother from his sister. A son from his parents.
There it is—all of it. The truth, laid bare, unforgiving, impossible to take back.
Her breathing is uneven, her body trembling like she’s about to collapse under the weight of it all.
I take a step toward her, gentler this time, not wanting to alarm her. “Maria?—”
She turns on her heel and runs as if she can outrun the truth. She dives into the bathroom, a sanctuary where she can be free of my presence. A second later, the door slams shut. I could follow after her, but I know she needs the space. She needs time to process.
I hear the lock click into place, and I know she’s not coming out of there any time soon. And I can’t be the one to force her out. I stand there, staring at the door, my heart pounding, my hands clenched at my sides.
So I wait.
Hours pass. The sun dips below the horizon, casting the room in darkness, but she stays locked behind that door. And I,Matteo Davacalli, a man who has commanded armies, torn apart empires, and walked through fire, can do nothing but wait.
Every so often, I knock. Hoping—praying—she will let me in.
I sit down by the door, leaning my back against the hardwood, trying to listen to what’s happening on the other side.
“Maria.”
Silence.
I try again. “Please, let me in.”
Nothing.
I exhale sharply, resting the back of my head against the wood. I don’t deserve to be on the other side of this door with her. I don’t deserve her forgiveness. But I can’t fucking lose her. She can hate me, scream at me, or beat me if she wants to. But I refuse to lose her.
“I know you’re not going to open the door, and you’re right, you shouldn’t. What I did—accident or not—was unforgivable. I shattered your family, and there’s no undoing that. I destroyed everything.”
The words feel heavy, strained. My throat is tight, my chest burning from the weight of the guilt that I have carried with me for months.
“I know you may not want to hear this, but I need you to know the truth. I’m not making excuses for what I did. It was my gun—and I was the one who pulled the trigger. We got bad intel about a shipment in Florence possibly being stolen. We were given the address of a warehouse and thought we were going to meet the smugglers, but it turns out we were wrong. There was a mistake that night. A fatal one.”
I pause, drawing in a breath.
“Antonio wasn’t supposed to be there.”
Silence.
Still, I go on.
“We thought we were walking in to reclaim what was stolen from us—almost twenty million dollars’ worth of firearms. We came in there with a lot of heat and every intention of putting these thieves down. And when I saw the men, I thought it was them—the ones who took our shipment. But it was your brother—Antonio and his men,” I say, my voice tightens. “The place was filled with gas. Everyone had their faces covered. The visibility was shit. I didn’t even know who we were fighting.”
I exhale shakily, my hands curling into fists. “Daniele was grabbed—a gun to his head. I had no choice but to protect him. I aimed, but before I could fire, someone hit me from behind. We hit the ground—fighting. I didn’t know who it was. I just reacted.”
I pause, eyes burning. “Your brother attacked me, Maria. I fought back. I had no idea it was him.”
My breath stutters. “The gun was between us. We were both holding it. And then?—”
I close my eyes, swallowing past the ache in my throat. “The shot went off.”
My throat burns as I force out the words. “By the time I saw his face… he was already on the floor, bleeding out from my bullet.”
Silence stretches between us again, but this time, it feels different. I don’t know if she believes me. I don’t know if this changes anything. I can only hope she opens the door and allows me the chance to earn her forgiveness—even if it takes the rest of my life.
For months, I’ve carried this guilt alone. I have lived with the weight of that night, with the knowledge that I stole a brother from his sister. A son from his parents.
There it is—all of it. The truth, laid bare, unforgiving, impossible to take back.
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