Chapter 7 - THE MATRIARCH’S COMMAND
Silence fell over the foyer. Even Vincenzo lowered his crowbar, staring up at the woman everyone believed was losing her mind.
Carmela descended the first three steps. She moved with the regal authority of a woman who had ruled an empire alongside her husband for forty years.
“I knew the moment your father died that your family had a hand in it, Vincenzo,” Carmela said, her voice echoing off the marble. “But I bided my time. I played the grieving widow. And recently, when Bianca began slipping poison into my tea to mimic the symptoms of dementia, I played the fool.”
Dominic whipped his head around to stare at his mother. “Poison?”
Carmela nodded slowly. “A mild neurotoxin. Enough to make me forgetful. Enough to make me wander. I caught her tampering with my cup a month ago. I stopped drinking it, but I let her believe it was working.”
Bianca’s face drained of color. “She’s crazy! Vince, don’t listen to her, she’s out of her mind!”
“Am I?” Carmela held up the stack of documents. “These are your family’s banking records, Bianca. While I was pretending to be confused, I was having our accountants quietly dismantle your offshore accounts. As of an hour ago, the Moretti family is entirely bankrupt.”
Vincenzo stared at his sister, horrified. “What did you do?”
“I did what I had to do!” Bianca shrieked. “We were ruined! The only way to save us was to marry Dominic and get power of attorney over her!”
“And when I proved too resilient,” Carmela said coldly, looking at Skylar, who was breathing heavily on the floor, “you tried to freeze me to death in the greenhouse.”
Skylar opened her hand, revealing the gold rosary. “She cut the wires to the thermostat. I found the rosary you dropped, Mrs. Rossi.”
Dominic’s rage was a terrifying thing to witness. It wasn’t explosive. It was absolute, freezing cold.
He looked at Vincenzo.
“Take your sister,” Dominic commanded softly. “Walk out of my house. If I ever see either of you in this city again, I will not use the courts. I will use the harbor.”
Vincenzo looked at the guns pointed at him. He looked at his ruined sister. He dropped the crowbar.
“Let’s go, Bianca,” he muttered.
“No!” Bianca screamed. She lunged forward, not toward the door, but toward the staircase.
She grabbed a heavy bronze statue from the banister and swung it wildly at Skylar, who was struggling to her feet.
“You ruined everything!” Bianca shrieked.
Skylar saw the blow coming. She could have dodged. She could have ducked.
Instead, she remembered Carmela’s words from weeks ago.
Never let small people convince you that taking up space is something to apologize for.
Skylar didn’t shrink. She planted her feet.
As Bianca swung the heavy bronze, Skylar raised her arm, blocking the strike with her forearm. The bone jarred with agonizing pain, but she didn’t fold.
With her other hand, Skylar grabbed the front of Bianca’s trench coat, twisted the fabric in her fist, and threw the elegant, cruel woman to the floor.
Bianca slid across the wet marble, coming to a halt at Dominic’s feet.
Dominic stared down at her like she was a stain.
“Get her out of my sight,” he told Vincenzo.
As the Morettis were dragged out the front doors, the tension in the room finally broke. The security men lowered their weapons.
Skylar clutched her bruised arm, her knees finally giving out. She slumped to the floor, gasping for breath, the pain in her cheek and arm flaring intensely.
Dominic immediately dropped to his knees beside her.
“Skylar,” he said, his hands hovering over her injuries, unsure where to touch without causing pain.
But Skylar wasn’t looking at him. She was looking past him, at a piece of white paper that had fallen from Bianca’s pocket during the struggle.
May you like
It was an envelope, addressed to Skylar’s father.
Skylar reached out with a trembling hand and picked it up. Inside was a foreclosure notice for her father’s house.
