Page 45 of Broken Mafia Bride (His to Break #2)

GIULIA

T he phone slips from my hand and lands on the carpet with a soft thud. I can’t breathe.

My lungs seize, desperate for air, like they’ve forgotten how to work. Horror twists my stomach into knots. Bile claws its way up my throat.

How can one man be so evil?

My mind spins, barely able to keep up with the flood of truth Raffaele just gave me.

Re Ombra. The king of shadows.

And that’s exactly what he’s been—lurking in the dark, pulling strings, destroying lives like it was a game.

I’m still sitting there, frozen, the weight of it all pressing down on me, when the study door creaks open.

He steps inside like he owns the world.

I look up at him, scanning his face for cracks, for signs of the monster behind the mask.

“Giulia,” he says calmly, not a flicker of surprise. “What are you doing here?”

His voice is smooth, steady. Of course it is. Everything’s still under his control.

He smiles.

“Is it the naughty bunny again?” he asks casually. “We really do need to do something about that, don’t you agree?”

“How could you?”

My voice is barely a whisper, shaky and raw.

“Excuse me?”

I scramble to my feet, suddenly ice-cold. My arms wrap around my body like I’m trying to hold myself together.

“How could you?” I hiss, the words ripping out of me. “How could you be so heartless? I’m your blood. She’s your blood. How could you take her? You’re a monster.”

His brown eyes—so like my mother’s—go wide, confusion spreading like a stain across his face.

“Child,” he says, voice soft and stunned. “What on earth are you talking about?”

I hesitate. Just for a second.

What if we’re wrong? What if Pepe lied? What if this is all just some sick, elaborate mistake?

My fingers curl around the object in my hand, grounding me. The truth is right there, cold and solid against my palm. The doubt vanishes.

He knows exactly what I’m talking about.

And suddenly, I realize I’m looking at the real Lucio Sanna.

The mask is gone. And god, he’s been wearing it so well… for months, maybe years.

Has anyone ever really seen him? Or just the version he wants them to see?

And now that I’ve seen beneath it?—

Will he even let me walk away?

I take a careful step backward, and a dark smile crawls across his mouth at the move. Terror rises—dark, cloying, and suffocating. He’s suddenly imposingly tall, large and looming. He looks decades younger—stronger, more agile.

“You should have gone along with the script I had for you, Giulia,” he drawls. “You just had to be so goddamn stubborn.”

“Burn in hell, bastardo !” I snarl.

His eyes darken.

“If Enrico had never stolen Eleanora from me, you wouldn’t have turned out like this,” he snaps. “Look at you—unmarried with a child out of wedlock, foul-mouthed. You’re a disgrace to my name.”

The fury rising in me burns hotter. “A disgrace?” I choke out. “You fucking kidnapped my daughter!”

I take a step forward, voice shaking with rage.

“If I’m so beneath you, why the hell have you been watching us? Following us? Why not just leave us the hell alone?”

“Noemi is my blood!” he roars. “It’s my duty to protect her. If I left her with you, she’d end up just like you—weak, ungrateful, broken.” His face twists with disgust as he drags his gaze over me. “I did what had to be done. I saved her.”

“You’re a monster,” I spit. “You have no right. She’s mine—and I want her back.”

He leans in, voice low and venomous.

“I won’t let you ruin her. One day, you’ll thank me.”

I blink at him, lost for words. It’s even worse than I thought—Lucio isn’t just evil; he’s sick. His obsession with control, with playing God and molding the world into his idea of paradise, has driven him mad. This is probably what he wanted for my mother too. No wonder she left with my father.

“She’s safe with me,” he continues. “She’ll never know war; she’ll be loved, cared for, and when the time is right, she’ll have a family to protect her. Face it, Giulia—your daughter is in safer hands with me than she’d ever be with you.”

I swallow, feeling sick. There’s no reasoning with this madman. “I want to see my daughter. Please, let me see her.”

He shakes his head, mouth pressed into a thin line. “If you want to see her again, you have to stay here in Sardegna and do exactly as I say. Until I’m convinced you won’t be a bad influence on her, you’ll never see her again.”

“Tell me, Grandfather,” I grit out. “What really happened to Mama and Val that day on the cliff?”

He lets out a slow breath, eyes flicking with something like regret.

“Things went wrong—I know that,” he says quietly. “Eleanora meant everything to me. I never wanted it to end like that. But you know what they say—if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

“ What? ”

“It’s true,” he snaps.

“But why?—”

“I’m surrounded by incompetence!” His voice booms, fury breaking through the cracks. “I tried to bring my daughter back, but that idiot I sent drove her off a cliff.”

He starts to pace, hands clasped behind him.

“I watched you grow up. I was biding my time, waiting to take you before it was too late. Then the perfect opportunity came along.”

He sneers. “Isabella was supposed to redeem you. But you were hopeless—too headstrong, too much like your father. I gave up. You didn’t exist to me anymore. Until Isabella came whining about how she loved the Gagliardi boy.”

My lungs forget how to function. My eyes go wide.

He’s lying. He has to be lying.

“I didn’t care,” he continues, “not until she mentioned you were pregnant.”

His eyes gleam like a blade in the dark. “It was my last chance to fix the bloodline. And I took it. You weren’t supposed to go over the cliff, either. But like your mother,” he sneers, “you let love ruin you.”

“ You’re lying! ”

He laughs—cold and hollow, a sound that freezes the air.

“Believe what you want. You know nothing. I’ve led you on a merry chase for years . First with the Echelon Syndicate. Then with La Rete Rossi. I used the Gagliardis to destroy your family, just like Enrico tried to destroy mine.”

I stare at him, horrified. Disgusted.

His expression twists into a scowl.

“If you hadn’t killed Luca, I would have succeeded. He failed me. His ego got in the way, and now look—everything’s a mess.”

I stagger back, the hatred in his voice knocking the breath from my chest.

“You blame everyone but yourself. You think you’re some tragic hero, but the truth?

” My voice cracks, but I don’t stop. “You’re a sick bastard.

That’s why Mama left. Jesus Christ, you killed her!

And now you stand there like some wounded king, pretending you’re the victim—when you’re the goddamn villain . ”

His mouth pulls into a cruel frown. “Look around you, child?—”

“ I’m not your child, ” I spit. My skin crawls just hearing the word.

“I’ve created paradise,” he says, his voice calm now. Too calm.

He steps forward, and I skitter away. Lucio walks to the tall window behind his desk and stands before it, staring out at the scenery I once believed was the very picture of perfection.

Now I see it’s all smoke and mirrors.

The rose-colored glasses have fallen from my eyes, and Casa Bianca reveals itself for what it truly is. The itch to leave this place rises, burning just beneath my skin like a fever.

“You should be honored that I’ve brought you here,” he says.

Years and years of lies, tactics, and manipulation… all to bring me here.

How far does his web stretch? How many moves ahead is he playing?

One thing I know with absolute certainty: My daughter will not become his next project.

I won’t let him mold her into some twisted heir to his so-called paradise.

Noemi is mine .

And I’ll burn this whole empire to the ground before he gets his claws in her.

Just then, I remember the gun sitting in the top drawer of his desk. I inch toward it—silently, carefully—sweat sliding down my back, heart racing. Grasping the handle of the drawer, I pull it open and reach for the gun, my focus fixed fully on him.

“I’ve faced too many disappointments,” he continues. “Only one thing has unfolded as I intended.”

I grab the gun—and then feel the cold barrel of a different gun press against the back of my neck.

A familiar voice speaks.

“Drop the gun, Giulia.”

Lucio turns to face me, a smirk lifting his lips. “Right on cue, my dear. Shoot her, Caterina.”

“Don’t!” I bark, my chest rising and falling too fast. “Don’t listen to him. You don’t owe him anything—he’s been lying to you for years.”

Throughout Lucio’s recounting of the past—of that dreadful day on the bridge—he never once spoke of Valentina in the past tense. Because she’s alive.

She’s been here all this time, hidden by Lucio’s manipulation and given a false identity. And now, with my fingers still curled around the heart-shaped medallion—the same one Valentina wore that day—I know, without a doubt: It’s her. It’s always been her.

“Kill her, Caterina!” he demands.

“Valentina, don’t do this,” I plead, voice rough with emotion.

She flinches. “Why do you call me that?”

“Because I know your family,” I say carefully.

The gun presses tighter into my skin. “You’re lying,” she snaps, eyes narrowing. “You lived your whole life in the States—how could you possibly know my family?”

“Because you are my family,” I say, my voice trembling now.

“You’re my sister. Lucio manipulated you the same way he manipulated me.

He didn’t save you from the streets or whatever bullshit he’s fed you for years.

He killed our mother and stole you away.

He’s a sick bastard, and you don’t owe him your loyalty. ”

Her hand trembles, the gun wavering just slightly.

“Don’t listen to her, Caterina,” Lucio cuts in sharply. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“I don’t believe you,” Caterina whispers, shaking her head. “You’re lying!”

“I’m not,” I cry out, my voice breaking.

“You’re not a killer, Val. You’re the sister who always did whatever Mama and Papa wanted.

The kind one. The one who never got in trouble.

The one who wore pink bows in her hair, carried an obnoxiously bright blanket, and overheard someone say ‘sucks’ one time and then started using it to describe literally everything. ”

The barrel shakes against my neck.

I can feel her hands trembling.

Lucio’s gaze flicks between us, fury twisting his face into something almost inhuman.

“Caterina,” he snarls. “I gave you the perfect life?—”

“ You stole her from her perfect life!” I snap, the words tearing from my throat. “We had a family. A real one. Until you destroyed it. You’re a monster.”

His expression hardens.

“And you’re just a dumb little girl who never learned to keep her nose out of things that didn’t concern her,” he growls. “I should’ve killed you a long time ago.”

He points at me like I’m an inconvenience to be erased.

“Enough. Caterina, shoot her. Now. ”

I hear Cat suck in a breath behind me—sharp, shaky.

Indecision crackles in the air between us.

My mind flashes to the cliff. To the song on the radio.

And then?—

I start to sing.

“Just a small-town girl… livin’ in a lonely world…”

“Stop,” she chokes out.

I press myself closer to the barrel. My voice trembles, but I keep singing anyway.

“She took the midnight train going anywhere…”

The gun behind me cocks, and I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the sound of the end of my life.

Don’t stop… believin’…