Page 51 of Scar

With squared shoulders, I walk to the box and open it. The first thing I see is the paperweight that took dominance on Scar’s desk. Memories flood back as I hold it in my hands, but I quickly place it back in the box before any tears can escape.

“I didn't appreciate your threat at the gate,” Benita's voice interrupts my thoughts.

My anger rises again but instead of speaking my mind, I bite my tongue. There's no need for her to know what I know about her. And I certainly don't want to reveal my hand in front of her.

“Well, I didn't appreciate being denied entry to my own home,” I retort, trying to keep my cool. “Just because I moved out and back in with my parents doesn't mean this isn't still my home.”

Benita's eyes attempt to soften, but her expression betrays her true feelings. It is hard, steely, and dangerous. This woman is not accustomed to being put in her place. If Salvatore Gatti were still alive, she would never have shown her face after all these years. No, she only appeared after his death because she knew he wouldn't tolerate her presence in his home. But what she didn't anticipate was that her own sons would reject her. She expected them to welcome her back with open arms, but instead they turned their backs on her and demanded she leave. A command she clearly did not take seriously, since she was still here weeks later. Trying to get her hands on everything now that she believes no one is standing in her way.

Except...maybe me. Would I be her next target? She is obviously used to getting what she wants, and I wonder how far she would go to remove me from the equation.

“This will always be your home.”

She attempts a warm, soft tone, but it comes out lukewarm and tense as she moves towards me. Suddenly we are standing too close, and I struggle for breath as we suffocateon the same air. There is something undeniably magnetic about Benita Gatti, but that magnetism also happens to be inherently evil.

“Then why am I not here, Benita?”

She sighs and looks at me with a hint of nostalgia in her facial expression. Once again, she explains the dangers associated with the Gatti name.

“Scar would never forgive me if anything happened to you. Your safety is my top priority. You should get away from here as soon as possible to protect yourself.”

What may sound like a warning, is indeed a warning. I bite my tongue and listen to whatever she has to say without giving away any information in return. I nod and show agreement with her words, telling her how hurt and alone I have been since the boys passed away. I share with her how difficult it has been to let go of their memories.

“I would like all of their personal belongings boxed up and sent to me, if that's alright with you.”

Her piercing gaze assesses me for what feels like an eternity, and I know she is wondering why I want her sons' belongings when I was only married to one of them.

“They were like brothers to me. I want to keep their memory alive by having everything you no longer need.”

She almost frowns but catches herself at the last moment and instead places a sympathetic hand on my arm.

“Of course, dear. I'll send everything over once it's all packed up.”

I reach into the box and pull out the paperweight, examining it in my hand once again. I know she has no intention of sending me anything; she's probably counting on my untimely death before she has to bother fulfilling any of my requests. Regardless, I decide to take the paperweight with me as aprecaution. She furrows her brow even deeper but doesn't say a word as I make my way towards the door.

“I just want you to know,” I begin, turning back to face her. “I haven't completely figured things out yet, but I am leaving. I'm taking your advice and getting as far away from here as possible.”

I observe closely as her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, followed by the first genuine smile I've seen from her appearing on her lips. Benita Gatti would be more than happy to see me gone for good.

CHAPTER 45 – ALLEGRA

As I exit the small boutique, I carry my bags and leisurely walk down the street, knowing that my father's security team is discreetly following behind me. This is my one condition for them accompanying me whenever I leave the house: they must maintain a reasonable distance and blend in with their surroundings so well that even I can't spot them. So far, they have succeeded in being invisible every time I've had to go out. They drop me off at my destination and remain unobtrusive until it's time to depart.

I'm crossing an alleyway when it happens. A hand covers my mouth while another arm wraps around my waist and lifts me up into the air. I struggle and kick as I'm dragged into the alley. It's broad daylight! Where are those security guards who are supposed to protect me?

My first thought goes to the baby growing inside of me. My initial instinct is to open my mouth behind the hand covering it and bite down, but I can't get a good grip on any flesh because of how tightly his hand presses against my face. Despite this, I manage to let out a muffled scream. Just as abruptly, I'm dropped onto the pavement with a soft thud. As I try to stand up, I notice a figure looming over me, pummeling the man who had dragged me into the alleyway. I watch in awe as he knocks my attacker to the ground and then pulls out his gun and aims itat his head. The attacker is shot execution-style right before my eyes. I don't recognize him or know what he wanted from me; it could have been a random act of violence. However, the masked man who saved me clearly doesn't believe this.

After committing his crime, he strides towards me casually and grabs under my arm to help me stand up.

He reassures me, “Don’t be afraid. You're in good hands.”

His deep, smooth voice soothes my nerves like a healing balm. If I have to trust anyone in this alley, it's going to be the man who just rescued me.

My curiosity takes over and I inquire, “Who are you?”

“That’s not important right now. What matters is getting you to safety.” His words hold a calming yet urgent tone.

I shake my head, still trying to process everything that's happened.

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