Guilio finally broke the silence, his voice low and cautious. “We need to dig deeper, Massimo. If those two are lying, we’ll know soon enough—but if they’re telling the truth, then we’re in the middle of something much bigger than a simple hit. Either way, we can’t let our guard down.”
I nodded, glancing one last time at Bill and Mikie. My mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting. All we could do now was wait, watch, and try to stay one step ahead of whoever was pulling the strings.
“You’re right. We need more information,” I stated, shaking my head. “And the only way to get it is to put my wife front and center. It’s time to announce to the underworld that I’m off the market.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Miranda
I was pissed. Not just irked or annoyed but trembling with a molten fury that burned beneath my skin. My hands balled into fists beneath the sheets, nails biting into my palms, and my heart crashed against my ribs in uneven waves. I could taste the sour edge of adrenaline at the back of my throat, the kind that made my limbs itch to move, to do something—anything—other than sit with this helplessness.
From the moment I woke up tangled in his sheets, the world tilting as he told me we were married, I let myself fall for the lie. I wanted to believe him—maybe needed to—but looking back, the heat prickled across my scalp with humiliation. I never questioned it. I never demanded proof. The memory of my trust, so easily surrendered, sent a pulse of self-directed anger shooting through my chest.
Well, not anymore.
I needed proof, damn it. There was no way I’d let myself be trapped in this mausoleum another day—not as his pawn, not as his wife, not as anything but my own person. The idea of spending one more night in that colossal bed, his scent still clinging to the pillow, made my skin crawl. My resolve hardened, icy and sharp: never again.
I ripped the covers back, the chill of the room slapping against my bare arms and legs. Goosebumps rose instantly, but the cold was nothing compared to the icy dread settling deep in my chest. My breaths came fast and shallow as I swung myfeet to the floor, each inhale jagged with the effort of keeping it together. My mind raced, questions swirling like a winter storm: What was he hiding? What had he pulled me into? Who the hell could I trust now? The urge to run buzzed in my muscles, but the instinct to survive cautioned me—escape wouldn’t be simple. Not here.
Resentment thickened the air, a suffocating presence pressing down on my shoulders. I could almost feel Massimo’s gaze shadowing me, memory flickering through every heated argument, every lingering touch that now felt tainted. My pulse thundered in my ears as I replayed each moment, each sideways glance that took on new, sinister meaning.
If Massimo thought I was just going to let what happened slide, he was dead wrong.
I was done playing the docile wife in his twisted game. I’d swallowed my anger for too long—let myself be maneuvered like a pawn on his chessboard. But no more. My skin felt electric, every nerve ending raw, as I promised myself: I would demand answers, and I wouldn’t stop until I tore the mask from every lie.
At the top of the grand staircase, I paused—one hand gripping the banister so tightly my knuckles blanched. I let my eyes drift closed for a moment, forcing myself to breathe slowly, deeply, and steadily, gathering the scattered edges of my courage. The house was silent enough that I could hear my own heart, a frantic drumming in my ears. Downstairs, voices drifted up, indistinct but familiar, and I realized I needed to face whatever waited below with my guard up. The mask I wore had to be seamless.
I descended, each step deliberate, and found Cesar Vitale deep in conversation with Dominic—the house butler—and Rose, the formidable head housekeeper. During my days of forced isolation in this gilded cage, I’d gravitated toward them, drawn to their warmth. Dominic, with his impeccable postureand quick, quiet humor, always seemed to know when to offer a cup of tea or a word of reassurance. I remembered, though, that offhand remark he’d made two nights ago as he polished the silver:“In some places, loyalty is a shield. Here, it’s a weapon.”His words had stuck with me, cryptic and unsettling.
And Rose—she ran the house with a quiet authority, every movement purposeful, every glance sharp. I’d caught her once, pausing in the hallway, gaze lingering for a heartbeat too long on a locked door before her expression smoothed into polite indifference. There was something about her—an undercurrent of vigilance, maybe a hint of something she was guarding, or watching for. I wondered, not for the first time, what had brought them to serve the Vitale family, and what secrets they kept beneath their calm exteriors.
“Cesar, we need to talk.” I cut through their conversation, my words slicing the air sharper than I intended.
The head of the Vitale family turned toward me, his movements slow and deliberate. His posture radiated authority—a silent warning—as he flicked his hand, dismissing Dominic and Rose. They slipped away, leaving behind a thick, uneasy quiet.
Refusing to be ignored anymore, my heart pounded with frustration and uncertainty, fueling my determination as I faced him. I closed the distance between us, voice steady as I demanded, “I want to see the marriage certificate.”
A faint, knowing grin unfurled on his lips. “You would need to ask your husband for that,Signora Vitale.”
My patience cracked. “Oh, stop with the signora crap. I’m done being civil. Something is going on, and I want to know what it is.”
He watched me, unreadable. “And what do you think is going on?”
My hands curled into fists at my sides, anger and fear twisting together. “That I’m being lied to, and I want to know why.”
His gaze never wavered. “Once again, I must refer you to your husband.”
If he said that shit one more time, I was going to lose my shit.
I took a steadying breath and tried to keep my voice calm. “I want to call my brother.”
Cesar shook his head, his tone clipped but not entirely dismissive. “The phones aren’t working right now. I think you should—”
I cut him off, my patience snapping. Holding up my hand, I snarled, “Gonna stop you right there, Cesar. Because I’m really close to kicking your ass.” His eyes widened as I glared at him, arms crossed tight across his chest. “Just give me your cellphone.”
Cesar hesitated, then gave me a sly smile—one that only made my anger burn hotter. “And what makes you think I’d do that?” he asked, voice dripping with amusement.
I leaned in, letting every word hit with purpose. “Because my brother is Ravage, the enforcer for the Golden Skulls, and when I tell him that your asshat of a fucking brother kidnapped me and held me against my will, Jackson is going to kick his motherfucking ass.”
