Revenge Is Mine

7: The Ugly Truth

Chiara Moretti

The drive back to the estate felt much longer than the drive to the restaurant. I sat in the backseat, staring out at the passing streetlights. My heart was still beating fast, a mixture of adrenaline and pure exhaustion. I had sat across from the man who ruined my life, and I had played him perfectly.

When the car finally pulled up to Alessandro's grand mansion, the front doors were already being opened by the guards. I stepped inside the massive foyer, taking a deep breath of the familiar, clean scent of the house. It felt safe here.

I walked toward the main living room, expecting the house to be empty and asleep, but a warm light was glowing from the study. I walked to the open doorway and stopped.

Alessandro was sitting in his large armchair. He had a glass of liquor in one hand and a book in the other. The fire was slowly burning in the fireplace, he looked up the moment my heels clicked against the floor.

"You are back," he said, his voice deep and calm. He closed his book and set it on the small table next to him. "How did the dinner go?"

I walked into the room and let out a long, heavy sigh. I dropped my purse onto the sofa and sank into the cushions across from him.

"He took the bait," I said, leaning my head back. "He took it so easily it was almost pathetic. I told him I had fifty million euros to invest, but I demanded full access to his internal financial books first. He practically choked on his wine, but his greed won. He promised to send the access codes to my office by tomorrow morning."

A slow, proud smile spread across Alessandro's face. "I told you he was predictable. Greed makes men blind and stupid. You did perfectly, Viviana."

I closed my eyes, "I feel sick," I whispered.

Alessandro's smile faded. He set his glass down and leaned forward, "What happened? Did he figure something out?"

"No," I quickly reassured him, opening my eyes to meet his intense gaze. "No, he didn't suspect a thing. He just... he flirted with me, Alessandro. He looked at me with that same hungry look he used to give me when we first met. He even tried to reach across the table and hold my hand."

A shudder ran down my spine just saying the words out loud. "When his skin almost touched mine, I thought I was going to throw up. Sitting there and pretending to find him charming was the hardest thing I have ever done."

Alessandro stood up from his chair. He walked slowly over to the sofa and sat down beside me. He didn't sit too close, always respectful of my space, "Look at me," he commanded softly.

I turned my head. His dark eyes were completely focused on mine, "You are playing a dangerous game, Chiara," he said, using my real name to remind me of who I truly was beneath the disguise. "When you play chess, you do not get angry at the pawn for moving. You just figure out how to capture it. Marco is a disease, yes. But if you want to destroy him, you have to get used to seeing him. You have to get used to sitting across from him, smiling at him, and making him feel like he is a king."

He reached out, his large, warm hand gently resting on my shoulder. "You endure his touch now, so that later, you can watch him lose everything. Can you do that?"

I looked at his hand on my shoulder. "I can do it," I said, "I will do whatever it takes."

"Good," Alessandro murmured, "Now, go upstairs and rest. Tomorrow is going to be a very busy day."

I nodded, standing up from the sofa. I wished him a good night and made my way up the grand staircase to my bedroom.

The moment I closed my bedroom door, I let out a long breath. I walked into the bathroom and stripped off the expensive emerald green dress. I took my bath and slipped into a soft, oversized t-shirt, and climbed into the large bed, pulling the thick duvet up to my chin.

Just as I closed my eyes, there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," I called out, sitting up slightly.

The door opened, and Maria stepped inside. She was carrying a silver tray. On the tray was a small bowl of beautifully sliced fresh fruits, a glass of water, and the small cup containing my daily recovery medications.

I frowned in confusion. "Maria? It is very late. You didn't have to bring this up."

Maria offered a warm smile "I know it is late, Signora. But Mr. Bianchi gave very strict orders."

"He did?" I asked.

"Yes," Maria nodded. "He called the kitchen earlier tonight. He said no matter what time you returned from your dinner, I was to make sure you had fresh fruit waiting for you. And he specifically reminded me to bring your medication, you are not allowed to skip a single dose."

Maria bowed her head slightly and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. A slow, genuine smile spread across my face.

The next morning, the sun was shining brightly over the city. I walked into the lobby of Marino Vintners and Tech, I wore a sharp white pantsuit today.

"Good morning, Ms. Marino," my receptionist greeted me with a bright smile.

"Good morning, Clara," I replied smoothly, walking straight into my corner office.

I set my purse down, grabbed the fresh cup of black coffee waiting on my desk, and opened my laptop. My fingers hovered over the mousepad as the screen lit up. I opened my secure email inbox.

Right at the top, just like he promised, was an email from the legal department of Mancini Architecture & Real Estate.

The subject line read: Confidential Financial Access Portal.

A victorious smirk touched my lips. I clicked on the email. It contained a secure link, a private username, and a temporary password. I took a sip of my hot coffee, set the mug down, and clicked the link. The portal loading screen appeared. I typed in the username and the password. I hit enter.

The screen blinked, and suddenly, the entire financial history of my father's company was laid out before me.

I leaned forward, my eyes scanning the dashboard. I clicked into the master ledgers, starting with the year my father died and moving forward into the years Marco had been in control.

At first, I was just looking for the overall health of the company. But as I clicked deeper into the expense reports, my victorious feeling vanished. It was replaced by a sudden, violent wave of boiling anger.

The numbers were a disaster.

I clicked on a folder labeled "Executive Expenses." Row after row of massive numbers filled the screen. Marco was bleeding the company dry. I saw payments for luxury yachts in Monaco, private jet rentals, diamond jewelry, and massive penthouse renovations. He was using the company cash reserves as his own personal piggy bank to impress his friends and spoil Alesia.

"You bastard," I hissed through my teeth, gripping the edge of my desk.

But it wasn't just the personal spending. I dug deeper into the vendor payments. My father had built this firm with honest, hard-working contractors. He treated his workers like family but Marco had fired them all. Instead, I saw massive, monthly payouts going to strange "consulting firms" and "overseas management" companies that I had never heard of in my life. The amounts were staggering millions of euros funneling out of the company and disappearing into thin air.

My breathing grew heavy. I gripped my pen so tightly my knuckles turned white. My blood was boiling so hot my ears were ringing. I wanted to march into his office right now and strangle him with my bare hands. He killed me, he killed my unborn baby, and now he was killing my father's life's work.

I was so consumed by my anger, staring violently at the computer screen, that I barely registered the loud noise coming from the hallway outside my office.

"Excuse me, ma'am! You cannot go in there without an appointment!"

It was Clara, my receptionist, shouting in a panicked voice.

"Get out of my way! I don't care about an appointment!" a sharp, highly irritating voice screamed back.

My head snapped up just as the door to my office was violently pushed open, it hit the walls with a loud bang.

Alesia stood in the doorway.

She looked like an absolute wreck. Her hair was messy, her eyes were bloodshot, and she was breathing heavily. The expensive designer clothes she wore couldn't hide the pure, frantic desperation rolling off her in waves.

She shoved Clara aside and marched straight into my office, her eyes locking onto me with pure, unadulterated hatred.

I slowly released my grip on the pen. I leaned back in my chair, folding my hands neatly on my desk. I looked at the sister who betrayed me, my face perfectly calm.

"Can I help you?" I asked smoothly.