Nevio's pov
"Mr. Cavarallo," My right-hand man called, walking into the living room with hesitance that immediately set off alarm bells.
His face was pale, nervous, as though whatever it was he wanted to say next would cost him his life.
"Y—your father is..."
"My father is what?" I asked, finally turning to look at him.
"He's at the shipments, having his men stop all the work that is going on there," he reported, taking steps back away from me as I stood up abruptly.
"Is he there with anyone else?" I asked tightly clenching my jaws.
"Yes," he answered, swallowing hard. "The father of the lady you were arranged to get married to,"
"Get the car ready," I picked up my gun cold and steady, tucking it into my waistband.
"If he desperately wants to die by my hands, then so be it,"
