BLOOD AND BETRAYAL

Chapter 14: Meeting with the devil

Victor didn’t sit back down. Instead, he adjusted the cuffs of his black dress shirt, his stance rigid yet calculated. He knew Don Rican was testing him, waiting for any sign of weakness. But Victor Moretti didn’t kneel to any man.

Alana set down her glass with a deliberate clink. "Questo sarà interessante," she murmured, amusement flickering in her dark eyes. This will be interesting.

Don Rican’s gaze remained steady, calculating. “Do you know why your father agreed to this marriage, ragazzo?”

Victor’s jaw clenched. “Per il potere. For power.”

Rican shook his head, a slow, deliberate motion. “No, Victor. He did it per la sopravvivenza. For survival.” He took another drag from his cigar, exhaling smoke in swirling tendrils. “He was losing ground. The wolves were circling. This union would have solidified his empire. And now, it falls to you.”

Victor met his gaze with unshaken confidence. “My father’s empire is already mine. I don’t need a contract to keep it.”

Rican smirked, tapping the ash from his cigar. “Ah, but does it belong to you, or are you simply holding it together with blood and fear?” He leaned forward. “Tell me, chi è il traditore nella tua casa? Who is the traitor in your house?”

Victor stilled. The words slithered under his skin.

Rican chuckled at his reaction. “Vedi? You don't even know. And that, Victor, is why you need me.”

Victor’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t trust easily.”

“Bene,” Rican said smoothly. “Trust is a weakness. But alliances? Those are survival.”

Victor exhaled sharply through his nose, weighing his next words. “And if I refuse the contract?”

Rican’s expression darkened, though the smirk never left his face. “Then, ragazzo, I take offense.” He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the desk. “And an insult to me… is an insult to my empire.”

Alana folded her arms. “We all know how that ends.”

Victor’s fingers twitched, resisting the urge to reach for his gun. Rican was forcing his hand, but Victor wouldn’t be backed into a corner. Not here. Not by anyone.

“I’ll give you an answer,” he finally said, his voice low. “But not today.”

Rican’s smile returned, slow and knowing. “Buona scelta. A wise choice.” He reached for his drink. “But be careful, Victor. The longer a man hesitates, the closer his enemies creep.”

Victor turned without another word, his mind already racing.

As he stepped out of the office, Alana’s voice called after him.

“Ci vediamo presto, marito.” See you soon, husband.

Victor didn’t stop walking.

This was far from over.

Victor's steps slowed the moment he caught sight of her.

There, standing near the grand staircase of Don Rican’s estate, dressed in an elegant black gown that draped over her delicate frame, was Isabella Moretti—his mother.

His chest tightened. His fingers twitched at his side, resisting the urge to reach for his gun as his mind raced. She was supposed to be in Sicily, far away from the blood and war of his father’s empire. Yet here she was, in Rican’s house.

She turned slowly, as if she already knew he was watching. Their gazes locked.

"Victor," she breathed, her voice a mixture of surprise and something unreadable.

He clenched his jaw. “Madre.”

Rican’s deep chuckle rumbled from behind him. “Ah, I was wondering when you’d notice.” The old Don strolled up beside him, smirking. “Family reunions can be such emotional affairs, no?”

Victor barely heard him. His eyes remained fixed on his mother as she descended the stairs with effortless grace, her expression unreadable.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low, steady, but his pulse pounded against his ribs.

She hesitated, just for a second. Then she smiled softly. “Talking business.”

Victor’s stomach turned. “With him?”

She stopped a few feet from him, tilting her head slightly. “With family.”

His blood ran cold. “Since when is he family?”

Rican let out another chuckle, walking past Victor and placing a hand on Isabella’s back with unsettling familiarity. “Ah, ragazzo, there are many things your father kept from you.”

Victor’s mind reeled, his entire body tensing.

His mother turned to Rican, exchanging a glance that sent a chill down Victor’s spine. She then looked back at him, her smile fading.

“There’s something you need to know, figlio mio.”

Victor didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

Everything about this moment screamed trap.

And for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure if the enemy was standing in front of him—

or if they had been a part of his family all along.