Page 128 of Dark Mafia Bride

Camila’s lips part in a desperate attempt to speak, but no sound escapes. Her eyes widen, the whites showing as they roll back, and her struggles weaken.

Behind me, chaos erupts. Aunt Francesca’s muffled gasp pierces the tension, and Aunt Marta’s frantic cries reach me as if from a great distance. I feel their hands on me, pulling at my arms, trying to break my grip, but they are nothing.

“Ettore!” Mirabella’s voice rises above the din, desperate, pleading. But I can’t hear her, not really. My vision tunnels, the world shrinking until there is only Camila, gasping, trembling, breaking.

“You brought him into her life,” I seethe. “You allied yourself withAbruzzi! Do you even realize what you’ve done? You handed a monster the tools to destroy her. To destroy me.”

Her mouth moves again, a pathetic croak escaping her lips. A single word, barely audible. “Please.”

“Please?” I echo, my laugh sharp and humorless. “You think you deserve mercy? After everything you’ve done? After you nearly burned Mirabella alive in her own home, with her family inside? Her sick mom—hersister and grandmother—could havediedbecause of you!”

I tighten my grip, my body trembling with the force of my anger. “You’re no better than the demons that plagued my father,” I spit. “You think you’re protecting this family? You’re nothing but a leech, clinging to power, destroying everything good in your path. I spent my whole life trying to escape his shadow, to bebetterthan him, but here you are—proof that I let his rot linger. Proof that I let the Greco curse into my home. Not anymore.”

Camila’s face turns a ghastly shade of purple, her gasps growing fainter, weaker. For a fleeting moment, I want to finish it. To snap her neck and be done with her poison. To silence her forever.

But then Mirabella’s voice cuts through the haze, trembling, raw. “Please, Ettore. You’re scaring me.”

And then I feel her throw herself against me, her arms wrapping around me tightly, her tears soaking through my shirt. “Please,” she whispers again, her voice breaking, her desperation anchoring me.

The fog begins to lift. The rage, hot and all-consuming just moments ago, starts to ebb as her touch pulls me back to reality. Her warmth reminds me of what’s real—what’s important.

I glance down at Camila, her face pale, her chest heaving as she struggles to breathe, and the truth crashes over me like a tidal wave. I don’t have to be this. I don’t have to be the monster they’ve always whispered about—The Reaper they’ve called me.

I can be better.

For Mirabella. For the unborn children she carries. For the future I’ve sworn to protect, the life I’ve promised to build with her.

My grip slackens completely, and I step back, letting Camila collapse to the floor. She clutches her throat, coughing violently, but I don’t look at her. I can’t.

Instead, I turn to Mirabella, who clings to me with trembling hands. Her tear-streaked face tilts up, her eyes filled with fear—not of Camila, not of the situation, but ofme. It guts me more than anything else ever could.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head, her fingers tightening against my chest, as if holding me together. “Ettore…”

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, forcing myself to push the rage down, to lock it away. For her. For our children. Because in the end, they’re all that truly matters.

My eyes scan the room when I open my eyes. It is filled by a suffocating, deathly silence. The tension is so thick it feels like it could shatter. Aunt Francesca and Aunt Marta remainfrozen in place, their wide eyes brimming with shock. Mirabella stumbles back, her face ghostly pale, her cheeks glistening with tear tracks.

I glance around and catch the horrified expressions etched onto the faces of everyone present. At some point, maids and other staff had crept into the room, drawn by the chaos. Their presence only magnifies the gravity of what had just happened. Yet, even as guilt starts to gnaw at the edges of my resolve, I find not a single shred of regret within me. If Mirabella hadn’t stopped me, Camila might be dead—and a part of me thinks she would’ve deserved it.

Now, there’s no room for negotiation, no space for forgiveness. This was the final straw.

I take a step forward, my heart pounding, my voice trembling but resolute. This is long overdue.

I look at my aunt. I can tell she’s trying to say something. But I don’t care. I don’t care about her excuses or her manipulations. She’s nothing to me now.

“Get out,” I rasp. “Out of this house. Out of our lives. If I ever see your face again, I won’t stop.”

Camila doesn’t respond, still choking and gasping on the floor. At length, she finds her feet and runs out of the room.

I shift my gaze to Francesca and Marta, the anger simmering in me spilling over. “All of you,” I say, my voice rising. “This place is no longer your home.”

The stunned silence deepens as they exchange nervous and exit as well.

Turning my back on her, I focus solely on Mirabella, my arms wrapping around her as if shielding her from the poison that has tainted this family for far too long. Whatever monster I was called, whatever darkness they tried to pull me into, I won’t let it win.

It’s over.

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