Page 74 of King Of Order

He sneered, stepping in, his presence more menacing than before. ‘You expect me to believe that?

Aldo joined our little party, his curiosity stirred.

‘How long have you been together with my sister?’ Aldo asked, his intonation thick with doubt, eyes slicing to me.

I met his gaze without flinching. ‘Long enough.’

I wrapped an arm around Chiara’s waist, pulling her closer, radiating calm.

‘You’ve been out of my life for months now, so you wouldn’t have noticed anything,’ Chiara said, her voice edged with a warning. ‘You’ve never cared before, so why is such interest in my relationship now?’

‘Because we don’t trust him,’ her youngest brother rage whispered.

Chiara pulled out her phone, her fingers moving fast across the screen as she unlocked it and brought up her private Instagram.

She thrust it toward Claudio. ‘Fratelli, see for yourself,’ she muttered between tight teeth. ‘We’ve been together for months. I’ve got nothing to hide.’

Claudio took the device and scrolled through the curated photos she and I had staged and backdated to make them look convincing.

Every picture told a story—a weekend swim, lazy dinners, the engagement and quiet moments that might have fooled anyone.

Claudio’s sneer deepened as he studied the images. ‘How convenient,’ he muttered, tossing the device back at her.

It slipped from her hands, and she barely caught it before it hit the ground. ‘You think these images prove anything? I’ll find out who you are, Rio. And when I do, I’ll make sure you regret ever stepping foot into this family.’

I didn’t break eye contact, not even for a second. ‘Feel free to try. I’ve got nothing to hide.’

We stared at each other for a moment, the tension thick between us. With a final sneer, Claudio stormed off, shoving past a group of mourners without glancing in our direction.

Chiara let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping as the strain of the confrontation hit her. I stepped closer, brushing my hand against her arm, grounding her.

‘He’s going to keep pushing,’ she whispered.

‘I know,’ I replied, my voice steady. ‘He won’t discover anything I don’t want him to.’

A few days ago, I’d created a false public profile.

If he searched online, all Claudio would find would be a grainy LinkedIn photo. With the name Visario Ciprioni and a bloated CV singing my praises for importing and exporting fabric to Rome and Milan. My job description waxed lyrical about keeping the prominent ateliers and haute couture houses supplied with only the best materials.

Chiara glanced up at me, her eyes searching mine.

I didn’t know if she believed me yet, but she didn’t argue.

Instead, she assented with a chin raise, slipping her phone back into her bag. ‘Let’s get through today,’ she murmured, ‘and deal with the rest later.’

I nodded but could not dispel the impression that Claudio would cause more problems for her.

After a few begrudging rounds of greetings and taking condolences from their associates and Olivio’s older friends, her brothers finally left.

So did the rest of the wake guests, leaving behind the mess of glasses and empty plates.

I tagged Chiara’s sigh of relief as a pang of emotion went through me.

‘They treat you like garbage,’ I muttered, wanting to thrash the pair, my eyes on them as they swaggered into their late-model German sports cars.

She smiled, trying to shake off their disdain. ‘It’s nothing new.’

I wasn’t having it, and I let leak how raw I felt about their treatment, overwhelmed with an intense desire to protect her that made my heart tighten. ‘You deserve better.’

---