Page 144 of Broken Mafia Bride

“Redemption?” he echoes, his face screwing up like he’s tasted something foul. “You’re mistaken, Giulia. The only person here who needs to be redeemed is Enrico. Don’t you see that he’s the cause of everything? If he never touched my precious Eleanora, none of this would have happened!”

There’s something erratic about him now, his eyes bulging wide. He’s waving his hands around, and I’m very aware of the gun in his grasp. It can go off at any time.

I take a wary step back, eyeing the gun.

“My precious daughter would have been married to a responsible man. She’d have lived here with me in Casa Bianca, safe in Sardegna. None of the cruelty of the world would have touched her. I’d have kept her safe, protected, and happy.” His eyes meet mine. “Isn’t that more than your wastrel of a father ever did for you? He treated you like you didn’t exist for years.”

He shakes his head sadly, his voice now low. “You’d have been so much better off with Caterina and me.”

My fingers curl into fists at my sides, and to my astonishment, my sister speaks again. “My name is Valentina, not Caterina. I won’t let you continue to erase my identity as part of your crazy plot to control everything and everybody.”

“Everything I did, I did for you!” Lucio spits. “How can’t you see that? Ungrateful brat.”

“Go fuck yourself!” she snarls.

His eyes widen, and he stumbles back. A fleet of emotions crosses his face—shock, disappointment, and then disgust. I can’t help but compare him to an artist whose art didn’t turn out to be the perfect piece he envisioned.

Pride at my sister’s defiance moves through me. Right from the start, there has always been a quiet strength to her, and nowI can see it manifesting. I’m glad she’s not been squashed under the shock of everything she’s discovered. There will be time in the future for her to dissect everything and freak out… that is, if we make it out of this.

Lucio turns away from her, looking angrier than I’ve ever seen him. “Let’s end this once and for all. We’re going to play a game of choose.”

“What the fuck is that?” Raffaele asks.

“It’s where Giulia here decides what’s most important to her—the family she chose or the family fate gave her,” he says, entertained by his own cleverness. “If you choose Raffaele, I’ll shoot your father and sister. If you choose them, I’ll shoot your lover.”

My heart sinks into my stomach as I stare at him with dawning horror.

“Are you crazy?” Val cries.

“You sick bastard!” Raffaele growls.

“Forget it,” I tell Lucio firmly. “I’m not choosing between anybody. I’m not leaving here without everybody. You can’t make me choose. I refuse to play your crazy games. Let us go, Lucio.”

His mouth presses into a thin line. “I don’t think you understand the severity of what’s happening here. I’m not offering you a choice. I’m telling you what you’re going to do. You’re going to choose, child.”

“Fuck you.”

He hums. “I believe you’re in need of an incentive.” He raises his gun again, straight at my father.

“No! Stop!”

The sound of two gunshots fired in rapid succession drowns out my scream. My stomach squeezes into a ball, and my lungs don’t seem to be able to draw in enough air as I watch my father jerk back in his chair.

His other knee turns into a bloody stream while the chest area of his shirt starts to darken rapidly. The tremble starts from the tips of my toes and moves upward until all of me is shaking.

“Oh god. Oh god!” Val stares at me wide-eyed, like I have a solution to all of this, but I’m just as terrified and confused as her. Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I blink them back. This is no time to cry.

“Are you going to play my sick game now, or do I need to decide who I’ll shoot next?” He flicks invisible lint off his suit jacket.

I glance from Raffaele to my father and sister. What now?

Raffaele shoots me a small smile. “You know exactly what you need to do, baby.”

“No way.” I shake my head thoroughly.

“It’s common logic.” He shrugs. “It’s never a good financial decision to risk a bigger sum over a smaller profit. It usually goes the other way around.”

“You’re not a financial decision!” I roar at him, the dam bursting loose, tears rolling down my cheeks. “You’re the man I’ve loved for nearly my whole life. You’re the father of my daughter and the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, so don’t talk about yourself like you’re expendable! You’re not. Not to me.”