He’s on his feet before the word is even out.
The slap comes so fast I don’t register it at first. Then pain bursts across my face, and tears sting my eyes from the shock.
He’s never hit me before.
For a brief second, he looks stunned himself, almost regretful. But pride takes over.
“Do not ever speak to me like that again,” he says coldly. “Know your place. Respect me, not only as your father, but as your leader.”
“Why do you hate her?” I whisper.
I think he won’t answer, but then he does.
“Your sister is weak.”
“She is the strongest person I know,” I spit. “She’s better than this world deserves.”
“She is soft,” he snaps. “And as I said, she is weak. She isn’t made for the mafia.” His voice hardens. “So she is treated exactly as she should be, a dutiful Italian wife. Meant to be shown off on her husband’s arm and warm his bed.”
“Don’t,” I snap.
My hands curl at my sides.
I’m ready to stab him for the things coming out of his mouth.
“Don’t ever use those misogynistic words,” I say. “About any woman. And especially not about my sister.”
“But you—” he continues, ignoring me entirely, his eyes full of pride. “You are strong. You are exactly what the Bellanti name needs.”
“I know about your extracurricular activities,” he adds suddenly. “AboutDeath.” A pleased expression crosses his face. “And I must say, I’m proud of you. You have the heartlessness required to rule.”
My stomach twists.
“So that’s it,” I whisper. “She’s disposable. And I’m useful.”
He doesn’t respond.
I see he won’t, so I change tactics. “What does Vass have over you? Or is it the Bratva?”
His eyes darken. Something crosses his face, gone too quickly for me to name.
“What did he use to force your hand?” I press. “To make you agree to their marriage?”
“That is not your concern,” he says sharply.
I smile, but there’s no warmth in it. “It is, father. You keep making enemies, and when you finally step aside, I’ll be the one left cleaning up the damage. They’ll come for me once I take over,” I say evenly. “So I’d say it very much is my concern.”
And for the first time in my life, I don’t look at him as my father.
I look at him as a liability.
Chapter 49
Octavia
I knock once and push the door open.
Ophelia is in bed, wrapped in soft pyjamas, a film playing on the television.
