Dirty Moans With My Husband's Father

Episode14

OLIVIA

I left the dead phone lying on the hardwood floor. The crushing, suffocating panic that had paralyzed my lungs evaporated in a single second, instantly replaced by a red, blinding inferno. My vision literally tunneled.

I stormed out of my bedroom, tearing down the grand staircase so fast my heels slipped on the polished marble. I did not care if I fell. I did not care about the bruises already blooming on my throat. I reached the bottom floor and marched directly toward the heavy front doors.

A massive, armed guard stepped into my path, holding his hands up defensively. "Signora, is everything okay."

"Where the f**k is he?" I screamed, my voice echoing violently off the high ceilings.

The guard blinked, clearly startled by the raw volume of my voice. "Don Bruno just left the compound, Signora. He drove out of the main gates five minutes ago."

I shoved past the man's massive shoulder and threw open the front doors. The biting night wind whipped across the dark courtyard. I stood on the top step, completely exposed to the freezing air, and pulled my secondary phone from my skirt pocket. My fingers moved mechanically, hitting his speed dial.

The line rang three times and went straight to voicemail.

I hung up and called again.

Voicemail.

I called him ten consecutive times, standing frozen on the cold marble steps. With every single automated beep, the boiling, manic rage inside my chest expanded. It completely consumed my rational thought. It swallowed my fear. My father spent his entire life building that shipping empire. He bled for it. He died for it. And Bruno just casually wiped out the offshore accounts to fund his own pathetic ego.

Headlights suddenly swept across the high iron gates.

I dropped the phone into my pocket. My hands curled into tight, shaking fists at my sides.

A black, armored SUV rolled slowly onto the gravel driveway. The heavy tires crunched loudly in the quiet night. The vehicle pulled up to the main entrance and shifted into park. Four armed guards immediately stepped out of the escort vehicles behind it, scanning the perimeter.

I did not wait for them to open his door. I marched straight down the marble steps. Every single ounce of self-preservation vanished from my brain. I did not give a single f**k if his men pulled their weapons and shot me dead on the gravel.

Bruno stepped out of the driver’s side. He wore his tailored dark suit, adjusting his cuffs with an arrogant, infuriatingly calm smirk on his face. He saw me approaching and opened his mouth to speak.

I swung my right arm back with every ounce of physical strength I possessed.

My open palm connected violently with his left cheek. The resounding, explosive crack echoed like a gunshot across the quiet courtyard.

The sheer force of the impact snapped his head hard to the side. The flesh of my hand burned with a severe, stinging heat.

Before he could even register the shock, I launched myself entirely at him. I did not use words. I let out a feral, guttural scream and attacked him. My manicured nails dug deep into the exposed skin of his neck, violently scratching and tearing. I hammered my fists relentlessly against his chest, his shoulders, his face.

"You stole it!" I shrieked, blindly throwing punches. "You stole everything!"

Bruno grunted loudly. The shock wore off instantly, replaced by a dark, explosive violence. He surged forward, grabbing both of my wrists in a crushing, bone-bruising grip. He twisted my arms sharply downward, completely immobilizing me.

"You crazy b***h," he snarled.

He ripped his right hand free and swung it hard. His closed fist caught me directly on the side of the jaw.

The world tilted wildly on its axis. Bright white stars exploded across my vision. I hit the rough gravel hard, scraping the skin off my knees and palms. A sharp, piercing pain radiated through my skull. The hot, metallic taste of fresh blood instantly flooded my mouth. I gasped for air, clutching my throbbing jaw.

Bruno stood over me, his chest heaving. The four armed guards stood frozen in the driveway, watching their Don get publicly slapped by his American wife.

The public humiliation completely shattered Bruno's pride. His face twisted into a mask of pure, demonic fury. He leaned down and grabbed a thick handful of my hair.

"Get up!" he roared, forcefully yanking my head back.

I cried out as the sharp pain tore at my scalp. He dragged me roughly off the ground, seizing my upper arm in a vice grip. He did not let me walk. He practically dragged my stumbling, bruised body up the marble steps and straight through the front doors of the estate.

"You think you can put your hands on me in front of my men?" Bruno yelled, his voice vibrating with absolute rage. "I am going to make you suffer for that, Olivia. I am going to make you wish you were dead!"

He threw me violently into the center of the massive living room. I skidded across the smooth hardwood floor, my hip colliding painfully with the leg of a heavy glass coffee table.

"My father's company!" I screamed, spitting a mouthful of blood onto his pristine floor. I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, staring at him with pure hatred. "You drained the trusts! You are taking everything my family has left!"

Bruno stood in the center of the room, straightening his ruined suit jacket. The deep, bleeding scratches on his neck were vividly red. He looked down at me and let out a cold, callous laugh.

"Your family has no legacy anymore," he stated flatly. "It is my money now. I took the master passwords from your pathetic little journal and I liquidated the offshore accounts. Every single cent of that American empire now funds the Romero syndicate."

"You are a thief!" I yelled, my voice cracking from the strain. "You are a cowardly, pathetic thief who hides behind his father's name!"

The insult hit a raw nerve. Bruno completely lost control. His temper flared to its absolute, explosive peak.

"Puttana!" he roared, spittle flying from his lips. He took a threatening step toward me. "Stupida cagna! Chi cazzo ti credi di essere?!*l" (Stupid b***h! Who the f**k do you think you are?!)

He pointed a shaking finger at my bleeding face. "Tu non sei niente! You are absolutely nothing! You are a piece of property I bought to secure a shipping route. Devi stare zitta! You shut your f*****g mouth and you obey me, or I will bury you in the woods behind this house!"

"Is there a problem in here?"

The soft, annoying voice drifted into the living room. Isabella casually walked through the arched doorway. She wore a plush cashmere robe, holding a delicate crystal glass of sparkling water.

She stopped next to Bruno. Her dark eyes slowly dragged over my bruised, bleeding face, my torn blouse, and my scraped knees. A slow, sickeningly triumphant smile spread across her lips.

"Look at the great American heiress," Isabella taunted, taking a slow sip of her water. "Sprawled out on the floor like common trash."

"Tell your w***e to shut her mouth," I hissed, glaring up at them.

Isabella laughed. It was a high, grating sound that made my ears ring. "At least this w***e can give him a child. What can you give him, Olivia? You are a dried-up, pathetic, barren b***h. You can't give him an heir. You don't have your daddy's money anymore. You are completely worthless."

She stepped closer, looking down her nose at me. "You should be scrubbing the floors in this estate, not sleeping in the master wing."

Bruno did not defend me. He did not tell her to stop. He simply wrapped a possessive arm around Isabella's waist and pulled her against his side.

"Leave her," Bruno ordered coldly, turning his back on me. "Let her sit on the floor and bleed. She is not worth our time."

He guided his mistress out of the living room, their footsteps fading slowly as they walked up the grand staircase together.

The silence that followed was completely deafening.

I sat alone on the cold hardwood floor. The sharp, throbbing pain in my jaw radiated up into my temples. My knees stung fiercely from the gravel. I slowly wiped the blood from my chin with the back of my trembling hand.

I stared blankly at the dark fireplace across the room. The blinding, manic rage slowly burned itself out, leaving nothing but cold, hollow ashes in my chest.

Bruno had won. He possessed the ledger. He drained the accounts. My cousin Michael was completely powerless against the Italian syndicate's legal team. I had absolutely no money, no leverage, and no escape.

My stubborn, righteous pride died right there on the living room floor.

I closed my eyes. The image of Don Antonio standing in the laundry room pushed its way to the forefront of my mind. *I will retrieve your ledger. I will put Bruno on his knees. But you know the price.*

I had refused to trade one cage for another. I had refused to sell myself to a monster. But as the metallic taste of blood coated my tongue, the brutal reality of my existence finally sank in. I was already trapped in a cage, being slowly tortured to death by a rabid dog.

If I wanted to survive this, if I wanted to completely destroy Bruno and take my father's empire back, I needed absolute power. I needed lethal, uncompromising force.

I needed the devil.