????MAFIA POSSESSION ????????
( HIS ADDICTION ????)
BY, ROYAL DIADEM ❣️
CHAPTER 29
Copy and have your life shortened ????
THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK in the corner of the office seemed largelyunimpressed with the scene unfolding in front of it. The apparent
unconsciousness of Don Moretti didn’t cause it to pause in its metronomicticking. The blood seeping throu-ghthe carpet in a growing halo didn’t faze
the swinging pendulum reflecting red throu-ghthe narrow window in thebottom half of the clock. Gianna’s cries of helpless misery caused no
change on the impa-ssive gold clock face.
But Caroline was not run by cogs and gears. She felt empathy,
and itshook her, rocked her to the core of her being. She looked at Bruno
Moretti’s unmoving body and felt disgust and righteous hatred, but alsohorror and guilt and pity. Like a child who smashes a gla-ss on the floor and
at first delights in the satisfying crash and the spectacle of all the glittery
broken pieces scattered around, but then realizes the consequences.
Thatgla-ss might have been mother’s favorite. You’d have to clean up all thelittle razor fragments. In the end you question, was it worth it?
Caroline broke Bruno Moretti. There had been a moment of acuteeuphoria. She felt powerful, she felt vindicated. But now a sick feelingchurned in her stomach as she watched Gianna shake his shoulders and griphis face with bloody hands, begging him to wake up.
She broke Bruno Moretti. Did he deserve it? Absolutely. But was it herplace? Did her hatred matter more than Gianna’s love? Could she pick upthe pieces without cutting herself? Would Luca ever forgive her?
Luca. His face was unreadable. Serene, all things considered. He lookedat his father with the cold, emotionless eyes of a shark. Caroline’s hands
trembled around the gun and she lowered it to the desk with a loud clatter.
“He’s lying,”
Luca repeated. Caroline hadn’t quite processed the first
time. Blood rushed past her ears so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else.
Not even the apathetic ticking of the grandfather clock.
Caroline blinked. “What do you mean?” It was difficult to put all of the
information in neat piles. Truth or lies, right or wrong, good or bad.
Gianna’s story overlapped most of the facts she knew. It made sense. It
covered all the bases. But something—maybe denial—kept her from
believing it.
Luca looked at her like she was the only other person on earth and his
father wasn’t bleeding out right there on the floor and his mother wasn’t a
blood-soaked, sobbing mess. “I went to talk to someone I thought might
know the truth.” Gianna quieted and looked up at her son, still hiccupping
periodically. Luca took another step toward the desk and leaned against it.
“I asked about your
father’s death.” He looked so nonchalantly handsome
there in his tailored suit and bow tie, framed against the dark lawn outside
the window. He spoke of death in the way he might have talked about the
events of a TV drama he was watching, but not emotionally invested in. He
was detached, but not cold. He cared. Caroline could tell he cared, but it
was still unsettling to see him so composed when she still held the gun that
shot his father.
“And?” Caroline prompted. “What did they say?” She didn’t know what
to believe anymore, but she wanted to believe something. She needed some
truth to cling to. All this not knowing exhausted her. There were too many
versions of the truth.
Her hand ached from clutching the gun too tight for
too long, but she didn’t loosen her grip.
“He died from injuries not related to a head wound.” Luca’s voice was
even and steady, presenting the facts exactly the way Caroline needed them.
She believed him. It almost frightened her how much she believed him,
how ready she was to cling to any words that came out of his pretty mouth.
But aside from the fact that Luca said them with his velvet voice, they rangtrue in her heart.
It felt right. Luca glanced at his parents on the floor, then
back at Caroline. “My father might have told my mother he was going toget help, but he killed him.” He looked so certain of himself. Disappointed,
maybe, but certain. She couldn’t not believe him.
“No,” Gianna whined what might have been a wail if she’d taken aproper breath. It was so broken, so betrayed, it ached de-ep in Caroline’schest.
Caroline released the gun like it burned her and it slid across the desk
toward Luca,
who casually picked it up and tucked it away in his clothes.
She felt on fire, too hot, feverish. But wasn’t that what she wanted to hear?
All these years, isn’t that what she knew? Bruno Moretti murdered her dad.
Bruno Moretti to-re her life to shreds and deserved to rot in hell. But hearing
it from Luca’s sweet mouth made it bitter. Her throat burned and her body
trembled. He had been convinced that his family was innocent. He almost
convinced her too. This close, she’d been this close to believing whatever
bullshit they made up about her father’s ‘accident’. But Luca didn’t stop
looking. He promised to find the truth, and he did. He kept his promise. He
kept all of them.
She looked down at the body on the ground and the way Bruno’s head
was turned, shoulders hunched in, half twisted on his side, looked so much
like Luca that Caroline forgot to breathe. The reminder that Bruno Moretti,
demon from hell, made Luca, raised Luca, hit her like a stinging slap to the
face. She’d managed to forget that Luca wasn’t innocent. He might not have
been as guilty as Bruno, but he sure as hell wasn’t innocent.
She’d been
lured in by his sweet face and his soft words, but she’d been dancing with
the devil.
Luca reached out to hold her, but she stumbled away, back against the
wall, shaking her head. He didn’t push her, but he extended a hand for her
in invitation. “Caroline?” Sweet, sweet wild clover honey. She wrapped her
arms around herself to keep her heart inside her chest.
She loved him. She
loved him and he would never hurt her. He promised not to hurt her, and
he’d kept all his promises so far. She trusted him. That thought put a lump
in her throat and threatened to squee-zetears out of her eyes.
“No,” she said. “I need space. I need–” She didn’t know what she
needed, but she couldn’t fall back into his arms. Not yet.
Not like this.
Bruno convulsed on the ground and Gianna looked between her son andher husband, in as much, maybe more, turmoil than Caroline. Everythingshe believed was a lie. She blamed herself all these years. But now herhusband was dying, and she couldn’t be angry at him because loss was astronger emotion. The fire of rage couldn’t burn in the empty vacuum ofgrief.
Luca’s warm hand cupped Caroline’s cheek and turned her face to lookat him. His touch was soft and gentle. Kind. Tender. “Go. Get out of here.
We have to call someone, and you should be long gone by the time they get here.” She didn’t realize she was crying until the pad of his thumb wiped
away a tear. “You have the truth. Now you can let it go and live your life.
Write your articles. Cure the world of their ignorance.” His voice was
honeyed velvet. Dark and thick and sweet and soothing. It spread a balm
over her heart,
but she felt something unfinished here. She wasn’t ready to
leave yet. He read her like a book and cupped her other cheek. “You know
the reason I fell in love with you?” he asked. She blinked at the sudden
change of topic. It didn’t seem right to make declarations of love while his
father lay dying in an ever-widening puddle of blood, believing in her own
guilt all those years only to find out that it was all Bruno after all. But she
didn’t. She couldn’t.
She closed the side door behind her and limped over the perfectly
manicured lawn to where her car was hidden. The pain in her ankle didn’t
matter. She looked back at the mansion before she climbed back over the
fence. It felt like her whole life had been leading to this moment, to this
confrontation and now that it was over, she had no destination. She was
walking away from something instead of toward it.
She climbed the fence and lowered herself gently onto her good foot.
But she would walk away. For both Luca and for herself.
Luca didn’t seem
to care. “It’s because you never shied away from the truth. Even when it
was hard. You always sought out the truth. In your writing, in your life. And
no matter how terrible that truth was, you never let it turn you bitter.” He
promised not to lie to her. She didn’t think she’d be able to tell if he did, but
she could feel how much he meant these words. “You are a good person. A
strong person, gattina.
Strong enough to let go.”
She took in his face; the strong arch of his eyebrows, the clean lines of
his nose, the soft dark lashes framing his eyes, the pretty curve of his
mouth, the sharp angle of his jaw, the rich warmth of his skin, theunderstated smell of his expensive cologne. She drank it all in like it wasthe last time she’d ever see him. She burned the image of Luca Moretti intothe backs of her eyelids so she could see him when she closed her eyes.
Because this felt like goodbye. He would send her off into the world andshe would have to pretend like she hadn’t been kidnapped and held‘captive’ for a few weeks. She would have to go back to work and tell
everyone that she had a good time on her ‘vacation’ and say nothing aboutLuca Moretti. She would have to keep him somewhere secret and safe in her mind and in her heart because this
was the end of a period in her life.
His hands on her cheeks held her suspended in a conclusion.
But he was right. He was always right. She nodded. His hands sli-pped
from her cheeks. She stepped back without a word. What would she have
said? That she was sorry? She wasn’t. Thank you? For what, kidnapping
her? No. There was nothing to say.
She picked her way around the growing dark stain in the carpet and out
into the hall.
She paused and looked back at Luca leaning down to pick up
his mother from the ground and wipe the blood from where she smeared it
on her face. A conclusion. A final image.
She took a breath of air that reeked of blood and broken hearts and
exhaled all the anger, all the confusion, and all the hatred she felt when she
walked into the office. She left the anger behind. She’d been angry for too
long and it had worn her thin. It felt good to let go. She was no longer
confused.
She knew the truth, and it was exactly what she always thought.
A little more complicated maybe, but it was better to know for sure. The
hatred had left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she was able to let that slide
away too. She didn’t hate the whole Moretti family. And Bruno wasn’t
worth the effort of her hatred. With all those feelings gone, she was left
feeling… sad.
Caroline walked away, retracing her steps throu-ghthe mansion. Shedidn’t understand the sadness, cold and thick in her chest. She should behappy that she finally knew the truth. Or angry because Bruno Morettiwould either die and escape judgement in this life or get off totally cleanbecause he had that kind of power.
She should be proud that she knew moreabout the mafia than the mafia did. She should pity Gianna for believing inher own guilt all those years only to find out that it was all Bruno after all.
But she didn’t. She couldn’t.
She closed the side door behind her and limped over the perfectlymanicured lawn to where her car was hidden. The pain in her ankle didn’tmatter. She looked back at the mansion before she climbed back over the
fence. It felt like her whole life had been leading to this moment, to thisconfrontation and now that it was over, she had no destination. She waswalking away from something instead of toward it.
She climbed the fence and lowered herself gently onto her good foot.
But she would walk away. For both Luca and for herself.
TBC