Why would you let your angel fall into my hell? Why would you force her light upon me, Fratello?
“The things I’d do to you, Bianca Zanetti.”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “Lanza. My name is Bianca Lanza.”
Chapter17
Bianca
The next morning, Enzio woke up before me. I should have been more alert, but it seemed the past few days had taken their toll on me. I was beat, body, heart and soul. My mind needed the break, preparing for today’s battle.
After they opened the will, I’d finally be free of the Lanzas’ constant menace. The family would do anything to protect their assets, and since I’d be the one in control of those, they’d have to protect me, too.
Step one: accomplished.
“Buongiorno,principessa,” Enzio said.
My head whipped toward him, a pang set in my chest. That was what Cosimo used to call me. I wouldn’t let his piece of shit twin murderer defile that memory, not when he sat in a rocking chair beside my son’s crib, holding Mario to his bare chest like Cosimo used to do, looking exactly like him. “Don’t ever call me that.”
He snorted. “Why? You prefer cunt?”
You motherfucking ass. “Yes. From you,cunt,is much better.”
A sound resembling a chuckle came out of his mouth, amusement flickering in his eyes, as I snapped at the sheets and stalked to the bathroom.
They served breakfast in the dining room. Like every room in the mansion, it was extravagant, with a long table that seated thirty people. The array of dishes outnumbered the entire menu of Alfarez’s diner.
“You should eat well. You’ll need your strength,” Enzio whispered in my ear as he took a seat next to mine, “cunt.”
Pour hot coffee on his dick.
Those scrambled eggs are hot. Burn his face with them.
My fingers itched to dive into his hair, yank it and then smash his face in the plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. Instead, I stared at him, picturing blood trickling down from a hole in his forehead. Yeah, that was soothing enough to silence the voices.
“I’m not hungry.” Even if I was, my appetite would be ruined in the presence of Marta and the Lanza pigs.
I wouldn’t eat or drink anything I didn’t make myself anyway. Three years ago before I dropped out of college, I was a Food Science major. I only spent one year there, but I learned enough to know that there were so many untraceable poisons that could be slipped in meals.
They could poison me, gradually, slowly, and my death would appear to be of natural causes. The will would be void. I’d be dead. The Lanzas would have everything, including my son.
Not gonna happen.
With confidence, my heels echoed into the study after breakfast, my boy tucked in my arms. Uncountable pairs of eyes darted at me. The whole family was here. The uncles, the wives, the cousins. Every member that could be in the will flew across the globe to be here today.
They didn’t know it was all for nothing. The woman they loathed was to be in charge. The queen they’d all bow to today.
The lawyer showed us the sealed document. Then he started with a verification statement that the will was valid, witnessed, dated and signed.
He tore off the seal and sat at the desk. “Last Will and Testament of Cosimo Lanza.”
The wordlasthit me harder than I’d expected. It was as if until this moment I thought this was nothing but a nightmare I’d soon wake up from and Cosimo would be walking through the door.
But now, listening to what would be his final words, I shuddered. My husband did die, and this nightmare was my life.
I held on to my baby, willing the tears away, reminding myself of what I lived for from now on. My son and my sweet revenge that would start as soon as the reading of this document was finished.
The lawyer recited the first paragraph. A few sentiments Cosimo wrote for his family, his son and me. I tuned them out, afraid I’d fall apart right here.
