Chapter 7
Elena POV
Two days later, the air in the Council Chamber felt stagnant.
It smelled of polished mahogany and decaying lies.
Dante sat at the head of the table, looking haggard.
Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, betraying sleepless nights.
Livia was conspicuously absent-likely hiding somewhere in the estate, nursing her bruised ego.
I took the seat on the opposite side.
Luca sat beside me, leaning back in his chair with calculated nonchalance, cleaning his fingernails with the tip of a switchblade.
Don Salvatore cleared his throat, the sound dry and rattling.
"We are here to settle matters," the old man announced. "The incident at the Gala was... unfortunate."
"It was a declaration of war," Luca corrected, his voice low, not bothering to look up.
Dante slammed his palm against the table.
"The video was a fake!" Dante insisted, the lie desperate. "I told Livia to get rid of it. She is just... troubled. She thought she was helping."
I stared at him coldly.
"Troubled?" I asked.
"She is my cousin's ward," Dante said, the lie rolling off his tongue like oil. "She is unstable. I was merely trying to de-escalate the situation."
"You stood there," I said. "You watched."
"I was in shock," Dante pleaded, leaning forward. "Elena, you know I love you. The contract stands. Come home."
I reached into my bag, my fingers closing around cool metal.
I pulled out a small digital recorder and set it on the table.
"I don't think I will," I said.
I pressed play.
The audio was crisp, cutting through the room's silence.
It was a recording from the infirmary, taken the day my leg had been shattered.
She won't die. This just reminds her who holds the real power. Pain is a good teacher.
Dante's voice filled the chamber.
In the present, his face drained of color, turning a sickly gray.
The Council members shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
I let it play.
I let the silence stretch long after the recording ended.
"That was out of context," Dante stammered, sweat beading on his brow.
"Context?" I challenged. "You watched her cut the cable. You watched me fall."
I pulled out another file and slid it across the wood.
"And this," I added. "From your private study. 'Elena is just a political necessity. You are my Queen.'"
Dante shot to his feet.
"Stop it!" he shouted.
Luca moved then-faster than thought.
He was across the table in a blur of motion.
His fist connected with Dante's jaw with a sickening crack.
Dante crumpled to the floor like a puppet with cut strings.
The perimeter soldiers instantly raised their guns.
Luca didn't even flinch.
"Sit down," Luca ordered, his voice dominating the room.
The soldiers looked at Dante groaning on the floor, then at the man standing over him.
Slowly, they lowered their weapons.
Power recognizes power.
I stood up, smoothing my skirt.
"I am officially defecting," I announced to the silent room. "My father's ports now belong to the Valenti Syndicate."
Don Salvatore looked as if he were on the verge of a stroke.
"You cannot do this," he wheezed, clutching his chest. "The marriage contract..."
"Is void," I cut in. "Due to bad faith and attempted murder."
Dante dragged himself up from the floor.
Blood trickled from his split lip.
"You are mine," he spat, eyes wild. "You signed the papers."
I looked down at him with pure disdain.
"I signed a contract with a Don," I said coldly. "Not a pimp who lets his mistress run his house."
I turned on my heel to leave.
"You can keep Livia," I called out over my shoulder. "You deserve each other."
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