Fucking Chiara.
Apparently, the crazy bitch had gotten it into her head that the reason I'd always rejected her was because of Lina. Since I visit Allegra weekly at Sacre Coeur, I can see why in her twisted mind she'd think I'm in love with my own sister.
Frankly, after hearing her father's confession, a lot of things are starting to make sense—like her obsession with old men. And this time, she'd gone and fucked Marcello's uncle.
While my father had been alive, he'd had one rule for her—fuck whoever, butnevera conflict of interest, like a competing famiglia.
It seems now she's truly gone rogue. And I, for one, can't wait to get rid of her once and for all.
"Don't worry about me, Enzo. I'm fine, really. I just wish I were by his side... He's all alone... suffering," she sniffles, and I tug her closer.
"He can take care of himself. Why don't you focus onyou?You're free to do whatever you want, Lina. Don't let Marcello or anyone else limit your potential."
"You're right... I should," she inhales deeply, her eyes closing. "Thank you," she murmurs sleepily.
Kissing her forehead, I close the door behind me, checking in on the kids before going to my own room.
Chiara must have realized she fucked up because she's been missing ever since.
But I'm waiting. And soon, she'll follow her parents to the grave.
It'slate one night when I see her sneaking inside the house. She thinks she's being sly, but I've been waiting for her all along. I step out of my room and into the hallway, listening to her steps as she ransacks the house for any valuables. She must have run out of money if she's so desperate to come here.
I watch her closely as she pillages what she can, filling a bag.
"Found what you're looking for?" I finally speak, and she jerks back, dropping her bag with a thud. Her eyes widen in fear, and she steps back.
I walk leisurely toward her, kicking the bag aside.
But as I see her better in the light, her face so similar to Allegra's but so different, I can't help but snap. She's afraid, and a red mist covers my eyes as I look at her pitiful form. She must have noticed the change in me because she's now cowering in the corner, trying to keep a distance between us.
In two steps, I have her by the throat, squeezing the life out of her. It would be so easy. A little more pressure and I'd break her.
"What have you done?" I ask her through gritted teeth. I already know the shit she's pulled, but I want to hear it from her own lips.
"Can't… breathe…" she squeaks, and I get the urge to tighten my grip. Finally snuff the life out of her.
"Tell me. What. Have. You. Done?" I enunciate each word, loosening my hold long enough for her to answer me.
"She fucking deserved it," she wheezes out, and I smack her against the wall. She whimpers in pain, but her expression doesn't change. It's a mix of defiance and malice that makes me sick to my stomach.
How could I have lived with her for so long?
"You're dead. You know that, don't you?" The corner of my lip curls up in derision. She's been dead for a long time. I've just been biding my time.
"You… can't," she stammers.
"Oh, really?" I ask ironically, and my fingers dig into her skin, stopping her airflow.
"Papa?" A tiny voice stops me dead in my tracks.
I turn around and watch with horror as my son steps into the room, his face full of worry.
"What are you doing tomamma?"
I immediately release her, and she staggers to her feet.
"Your mamma and I were just having a grown-up conversation," I explain to him, side-eyeing her to keep her mouth shut.
