Page 135 of Ruthless Redemption

The scene we approach is picturesque, the outdoor table adorned with food fit for a high tea with ceramic three-tier cake stands littered with assorted baked goods. There’s coffee and juice. A water jug with crystal tumblers. Bread plates are covered in half eaten treats. Exquisite bowls are piled with jam and cream.

Then there’s the devil who sits on the far side, his eyes sparkling as he lowers his oxygen mask to leer at me. His placid wife sits to his left, a portrait of excessive prestige. Two of their guards stand at attention a foot behind them.

Lorenzo has already reclaimed the seat opposite his brother-in-law, his profile stony to match the security duo flanking him.

“Father,” Remy snarls as he stops a few yards from the table. “Mother.”

Salvatore claims the space to his brother’s left. I stop on the right, with Matthew close at my side. We’re a wall of defiance. Of pure hatred.

“You brought her to me,” Emmanuel addresses Salvatore with a grin. “I’m proud of you, son.”

“Don’t be. I think we both know what this really is,” Salvatore says.

Emmanuel feigns a look of ignorance, but I swear, he already knows. Behind the confused blink of his eyes, he hides his volatile anger. “What do you mean? Didn’t you follow me here to hand over your pretty bounty?”

“Make one more comment about her, old man, and it’ll be your last,” Matthew warns.

“Enough.” Lorenzo claps a hand on the table, rattling plates and cutlery. “I don’t want to ask anyone to leave, but I will if you don’t behave. You are all well aware she is my guest.”

“You made that perfectly clear.” Emmanuel inclines his head. “My apologies.”

Rage heats my cheeks.

He doesn’t care about Lorenzo’s rules. He doesn’t even care about his own children.

“I do have one concern though.” Emmanuel raises his oxygen mask, takes a long inhale as we all wait, then lowers it again. “Should we hide the knives, boy?” His attention shifts to Matthew. “We’ve all heard you’re quite adept at using them, and it sounds like your restraint is a little shaky.”

“I’m more than happy to give you a demonstration.” The words are grated beside me, every syllable hostile.

“Emmanuel.Figlio,” Lorenzo growls. “We’re family. Treat each other accordingly.”

“Unfortunately,Zio, not all of us have the same standards of treatment,” Matthew stretches his neck from side to side as if preparing for battle. “Isn’t that right, Emmanuel?”

There’s no response, only the quiet hiss of his oxygen mask and the slight narrowing of Adena’s eyes.

“Explain.” Lorenzo reaches for a tea cake, leisurely placing the delicacy on the plate in front of him.

“I’ve recently found out my siblings have lived for years in a lifestyle more accustomed to slavery.”

“That’s a lie,” Adena sputters. “You’re always lying, Dante, and I can’t understand why. We gave you every—”

“You gave me nothing but pain. But you’ve treated my brothers with far more contempt. You’ve held them hostage from their own finances.”

Emmanuel rolls his eyes. “Do they look destitute to you?”

“You’ve tapped their phones,” Matthew continues. “Blackmailed them with crimes you forced them to commit. You’ve enslaved your own children because we all know they would’ve left you long ago if you didn’t.”

“Is that true?” Lorenzo asks.

Nobody answers.

“Is it true?” he growls, his focus turning to Salvatore.

“Yes.” Remy winces. “We’ve been without freedom for years.”

Emmanuel sighs and pulls out his phone to tap nonchalantly at his screen. It’s a subtle snub at the accusations. He doesn’t care. He’s not ashamed.

“We handle their finances.” Adena dabs at the corners of her mouth with a cloth napkin. “We contracted the best financial planner in the state to help them invest in their future. The money is in a trust. They all know that.”

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