"I don't hate you," his expression immediately changes from playful to serious. "You were just the perfect scapegoat," his shoulders angle up in a lazy shrug. "The video..." he trails off, "they call them deepfakes. You can't trust anything these days, uncle."
"You knew how I'd react. You fucking knew..."
"Yes. I was banking on it. And you acted brilliantly. The video from the engagement party was amazing too. I told you she'd be a good lay." He has the gall to smirk at me.
"Because of you I..." I can't believe how stupid I'd been to fall into his trap.
"No, uncle. Because of you. You were the one who never once questioned whether the video was real or not and that's on you. You can sit there and blame me all you want, but I merely gave you the push you needed. The destruction... That was all you."
I raise my fist, bringing it against his cheek and feeling the burn as bone meets bone.
Still, Cisco's sporting the same amused expression on his face, even as I keep on pummeling him.
"Why? WHY? Fucking tell me why!" I yell as I continue to punch him, blood already pouring from his lip and nose.
"Because it's fun," he drawls, a maniac laughter escaping him. "Because it's infinitely more fun watching people flounder than watching them be happy."
"You're sick," I snarl at him. "Fucking sick," I continue to punch, even as my wrist hurts like hell, the skin off my knuckles peeling away, I keep on punching.
"Yes! I'm fucking sick. So bring it on, uncle. Show me what you've got," he laughs, his white teeth stained with red as he keeps on baiting me with his words.
"I'll fucking kill you," I say as I fling him to the floor, my foot connecting with his stomach.
He starts coughing blood, but the laughter doesn't stop. If anything, it's stronger.
"Come on, you can't say you didn't enjoy fucking her. Was her pussy as good as they say? Come on, old man, share the details."
Something doesn't fit as I realize I'm just beating him to death and he's not even defending himself. If anything, he's baiting me to hit him harder.
He's on the floor, gasping for air as he spits more blood, but that sick smile is still on his face as he looks at me with a twisted grin.
One more kick and I have my foot on his chest, keeping him down.
"Do it," he taunts. "Fucking do it!" He yells at me, and in that moment, all I see is Gianna's face as she'd walked out on me—for good. The ending of a life I never even had.
And for that, he doesn't deserve to live either.
"Come on!" He yells at me. "Fucking do it! Who do you think hired those people to cut you? Who do you fucking think orchestrated the entire thing? Because I knew you'd fall for every single one of my traps, uncle," he laughs.
I still, my eyes wide in shock.
"You..." I trail off, my voice filled with horror. "You hired them to cut my face?" I ask incredulously. "Why... What the fuck?"
I shake my head, unable to believe I'm staring at someone I'd watched grow up—that I'm staring at my fucking family.
"Because you fit my plans," he shrugs. "And because I could," he winks at me, his entire face bloody and looking like a fucking freak show.
"What's wrong with you..." I shake my head at him.
"Guerra took everything from me," his lips curl in contempt. "It's only fitting I took everything away from them too," he chuckles. "After all, Benedicto only ever cared about his social standing. Now he has nothing," he continues to laugh like a madman, going on and on about his perfect plan for Guerra and how I'd been the perfect pawn.
"But there's one last step," he grins like a fool. "So do it! Fucking kill me and get your revenge," he laughs manically, and I realize what he means by the last step.
He wants me to kill him.
I don't know what Guerra took from him, but this isn't the Cisco I know. This is a deranged version of him, possibly on the brink of a mental breakdown.
But as he continues to hurl insults at me, taunting me with Gianna, I don't care whether he's got a death wish or not.
"I promised my men they could take a turn too," he chuckles. "That video certainly whet their appetite. And she'd be willing wouldn't she? She already spread her legs for a DeVille once, what's a few more times?"
My fists connect with his jaw again—and again.
There's just so much a man can take before reaching his boiling point. And Cisco just sent me to mine. Betrayal after betrayal, he fucking ruined everything.
And I'll ruin him—literally.
Lifting my foot up, I draw it back to gain momentum before going for the region right under his chin, knowing that if I hit hard enough it's going to kill him immediately.
But just as I'm about to go for the kill, I feel a knife plunge deep into my skin.
"What..." I mutter, bringing my hand back and feeling for the wound. It had definitely come from the direction of the window. I remove the knife from my shoulder, surprised to see it's tiny—and likely hadn't done much damage.
I barely have time to register what's happening when Cisco's expression changes completely.
He's looking at something behind me with a mix of awe and shock, his eyes wide, his mouth parted open.
Finally turning, I note the presence of a newcomer—a woman.
Dark hair, and dark eyes, her features are emotionless—dead—as they gaze upon Cisco.
"You don't kill him," she states, not even looking at me. "I kill him," she proclaims in a foreign accent.
Cisco still hasn't reacted, looking at her as if he'd seen a ghost.
"He needs to die," I grind my teeth, ready to fight her for that right.
"Why?" She finally turns to look at me. "He wronged you?" She raises an eyebrow, and I nod, a little surprised at her question. "He wronged me too." She tilts her head as she meets Cisco's gaze.
Of Asian descent, she's around five foot four, but there's a nimbleness to her movements that is quite impressive. Especially as she managed to take me by surprise enough to stab me in the back.
"You can kill him after I kill him," I add drily, turning back to Cisco.
He seems to have forgotten I even exist as he all but gawks at the woman.
"No." She says again, this time more forcefully. "I don't think you understand me. I kill him. Because he wronged me first."
"Right. Debatable, but let's just kill him together and be done with it," I suggest, a headache mounting both from the sudden exertion and from arguing about fucking killing a man and not killing him yet.
"No." She says again, and I get the impression she likes to speak in short sentences. "He's mine. And if you try to steal my kill," she slowly turns towards me, "then I'll kill you too."
"Wait, wait, wait," I roll my eyes. "First of all, I don't hurt women. No offence," I point towards her outfit, which is clearly designed for fighting. "But I don't see why we couldn't cooperate and kill him together."
"Stay out of what doesn't concern you, stranger. He wronged me first. He's mine to kill."
"Fine, let's do it another way. What did he do to you? Because I'm pretty sure he didn't orchestrate an elaborate scheme to get you to destroy the woman you love, all in the name of some fucking gratuitous revenge."
"He dishonored me," she says through gritted teeth, throwing Cisco a glance full of disdain.
"He... dishonored you?" I ask tentatively, because my mind is sending me to one place and one place only, and that might be the worst offence.
"Yes. He betrayed me and married a bitch," she rasps, her eyes wild as she seems barely in control of herself. "And now that bitch will be a widow," she says with a sick smile on her face.
She's holding a blade in each hand—butterfly swords. She slowly brings one to her lips, her tongue dancing over the sharp edge as her eyes are focused on Cisco.
Looking between the two of them I debate whether I should push the issue or not. But since she seems quite possibly more determined than me to end his life, then who am I to stand in a lady's way?
&nbs
p; "He's yours," I nod, taking my foot off him.
"I'm done, Cisco. I'm done with you, I'm done with the famiglia, I'm done with everything."
It feels like a weight's been lifted off my chest as I renounce my affiliation with the famiglia once and for all. Because I may have been their lackey my entire life, but no more.
Everything was over the moment they destroyed my heart.
I make to leave, only pausing one moment to ask.
"What's your name?"
She frowns, as if she can't understand why I'm asking, but after a prolonged pause, she does answer.
"Daiyu. My name is Daiyu."
"Good, Daiyu, make sure he dies a slow death. The bastard deserves it."
A smile pulls at her lips.
"Oh, by the time I'm done with him, he'll wish you'd have killed him," she gives a sinister laugh as she approaches Cisco.
I shrug, closing the door behind me. But as I leave the house that used to be my home at some point, I can't help but feel like I'm closing an important chapter in my life—at last.
Passing by what used to be my mother's door, the memories aren't as painful today as they used to be. Instead, they've dulled to a slight buzz, the images blurry.
It's perhaps the first time that I haven't felt a deep revulsion towards the events of that day, and how I'd played a role in both my mother's and my father's demise.
But as I leave—for good—I know a new chapter awaits me.
I'm still alive.
She's still alive.
And that means I'm chasing after my sun, even if my wings might melt along the way.
Chapter Nineteen
ONE MONTH LATER,
The entire floor is bathed in darkness. Using the flash from my phone, I light the path to my apartment, quickly fumbling to get my keys out and unlock the door.
Once I'm inside, I firmly lock it, releasing a deep breath.
I don't think I'm going to get used to coming home after dark anytime soon. Yet it's my new reality.
I'll survive. I always do.
For a studio, the place is pretty spacious, even though the kitchen and the bedroom are in the same room. I'd had to make some tough decisions after I'd put as much space between me and my family as I could. And that had included seriously downsizing my previous life.
I'd chosen this place for the low rent, and for the relatively safe neighborhood.
Or as safe as it can be.
That has been the hardest.
Before, I'd had my guards with me everywhere, and no one dared to say a word to me. Now? The amount of times I'd gotten hit on and cat called in the last month is astounding.
It's particularly worse at night, when my shift at the restaurant ends. I always walk back in fear, clutching my bag and making sure I don't draw any unwanted attention to myself.
Taking my blazer off, I quickly put some food in the microwave before showering. When the food is done, I take it with me to the bed, quickly eating while reading from my textbook.
The decision to run away had been a spontaneous one.
When I'd heard that Clark had in fact survived the cyanide poisoning, I'd known things could not possibly turn out well for me. While he hadn't directly accused me of attempting to murder him, he'd declared he was going to marry me as soon as he was out of the hospital.
Since that had been out of the question, I'd known that I couldn't stay there any longer.
So what if Bass had betrayed me? I was still my own person, and for the first time I'd decided to take my fate into my own hands.
The most unforeseen thing, though, had been Michele's reaction.
He'd been the first person I'd gone to, knowing I could never leave without him.
"No," he'd said in that quiet voice of his, raising his gaze to mine and looking nothing like my baby brother.
"But Michele, you can't stay here..."
"No," he'd interrupted me, his eyes cold. "I'm fine on my own. I've always been. But you..." his lip had curled in disgust. "You've shamed us, Gianna."
The moment he'd referred to me as Gianna instead of Gigi, I'd known that something was wrong—something was terribly wrong. Because Michele had never called me by my full name.
"Michele..."
"You know that they make fun of me at school. That I had a whore of a mother and a whore of a sister. I always defended you. But I shouldn't have, should I? Because it was true. Everything was true."
"Michele, I know what you saw there..." I'd tried to explain to him, but he wouldn't have it.
"I know," he'd stated point blankly. "I'm not a child, Gianna. And like everyone else present that night, I had to see you—my sister—getting fucked from behind like a common whore."
I'd gasped in disbelief. Michele had never talked to me like that before. Never.
But no matter how much I'd tried to get through to him, I couldn't.
"You've done enough damage to this family. You need to leave and never come back. I don't have a sister, much less a loose one like you," he'd told me right before shutting his door in my face.
I'd barely made it to my room before tears had racked my body. But even then, I knew I couldn't waste any time.
In a way, wasn't it better that he renounced me as his sister? That way he'd never miss me again. But even that platitude sounded fake to my ears when my heart was breaking that my own baby brother—the one I'd basically raised—had shunned me.
Getting myself together, I'd started planning my escape, knowing I'd have to depend on Bass to make it out.
But was it really only that?
The grim truth is that it hadn't been only that.
Even knowing he'd stabbed me so deeply my wounds would not stop bleeding, I still could not let him die.
How could I when I loved him even if I hated him?
There was this part of me that still hurt for him. Especially after I'd seen him so beat up in that cellar. I'd known he had one foot in the grave, so I'd gone against myself—against that part of me that hated him more than anything—and I freed him.
I'm even more mortified to admit that I'd been worried sick in the days following our escape. He'd looked awful as he'd dropped me off at the train station, and I'd known from his slurred speech that he was almost out.
And so I'd once more done something that went against everything I should have done.
I'd called his family.
Why, I can't say.
I should have prayed for his death. I should have rejoiced at his pain. I should have fucking killed him myself.
Yet, I couldn't do any of that. Not when all I wanted was for him to live.
That worry hadn't helped with my new adjustment to the real world.
According to plan, I'd pawned off some expensive jewelry and I'd managed to get enough to pay the deposit for the studio apartment. But knowing the money I had wouldn't last, especially since I'd taken with me only a couple diamond necklaces to not tip off anyone, I'd had to get a job.
The only option for someone who had zero experience had been waitressing. I'd been lucky enough to find a position within a week of moving to a new city, and for a while now I've been working there.
The pay isn't great, and the job isn't easy either, but at least the tips are good and will help me put some money aside to start my studies in the future.
To escape notice and take advantage of my new identity, I'd also had to change my looks. I'd gone for dark hair, and I'd put on blue contacts. I'd also gotten a fake tan to make my skin slightly darker. Why, I almost look like a different person. Now, I only need to lay low and make sure I don't get on anyone's radar.
The first few weeks I'd survived on my stubborn will alone, spending ten plus hours at the restaurant and the rest crying at home.
It hadn't helped that I'd felt more alone than ever coming home to find it empty, the silence almost deafening. I'd missed my brothers, I'd missed home, and more than anything, I'd missed him—the bastard who threw me to the wolves and laughed
as they chewed me up.
Soon, though, the crying stopped, and while my heart was still broken, I had a goal. After all, I finally had the freedom I'd always dreamed of, so why wouldn't I take full advantage of it.
Why let anyone stop me when I could do whatever I wanted if I worked hard enough?
Slowly, I started befriending the staff at the restaurant, even getting friendly with some of the regular clients. And while the emptiness in my heart was still present, step by step, I was learning how to live again.
After a couple hours of studying, I tuck my textbook in a drawer, and make my bed.
If I'm disciplined enough with my schedule, I might be able to take the GED and apply to some of the local colleges.
Early the following day, as I head to the restaurant, I can't help the nagging feeling that I'm being followed. Yet every time I turn to look behind me, there's absolutely nobody.
It's not the first time this has happened, and for a while now I'd felt like someone was watching me. Still, not having any evidence, I can only assume it's my paranoid mind. After all, I'd tried to find out some news about my family in the first week since leaving home—I couldn't help my curiosity. But the only online articles about Guerra had been dedicated to my engagement party and the video of me and Bass. Following the party, the video had been uploaded and re-uploaded everywhere.
Throwing that out of my mind, I increase my pace, making it just in time to put on my uniform and clock in.
Since it's Friday night, the shift is getting increasingly busy. My feet hurt like hell and I barely get a reprieve to rest them a little.
"Lara, table five needs you," my coworker signals me, and it takes me a moment to realize he's addressing me.
That's right. I'm Lara now.
Gianna is all but gone.
I head to table five, ready to take the order.
Once again, all the hairs stand on my arms as I feel someone's stare boring into me. Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and paint a big smile on my face.
"Hello. What can I help you with?" I ask in a pleasant tone.
The secret to hospitality is to always wear a smile on your face, even when you want to kill the customer. Besides, the nicer I am, the more tips I get, so it is to my advantage.
Frivolous: A DARK MAFIA AGE-GAP ROMANCE Page 28
