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“Nico, does he do this to other women?” I ask, without breaking eye contact.
“Yes. Dozens, Emelia.”
I stand tall then, and without even a brief pause, I bring my hand back and swing it downward, making contact with his cheek so hard his head whips to the side, his neck popping with the movement.
“You sick fuck! Men like you deserve your dicks ripped off. You used me.”
“Emelia, I loved you.”
“Youloved?” I laugh with all the sarcasm I can muster. He’s such a bastard.
“No, I didn't mean that. I still love you, and I want what we had.”
“That will never fucking happen,” Nico chimes in, his voice low and menacing.
“No, it won’t, and I was stupid to think that one day, after I gave Nico a family, he would let me leave and we could be happy.” I slap him again, and Nico growls behind me. What I said must have upset him.
“Never would have happened,” Nico inserts.
I don't respond, because the only person I want to focus on is Damian and his betrayal. I take the knife and admire the blade like Nico did, and Damian begs.
“Emelia, please! I won’t do anything like that again. I’ll stop it all.” The power I feel when he begs, it's almost as if I understand the power the mafia men hold when they’re getting revenge.
“I finally have the control to take back all the things that were stolen from me by men like you.” I lower the blade and bring it to his hand, specifically his middle finger. Just call me metaphorical. Cutting off his middle finger as a big “fuck you” for being like every other man who’s crossed me.
I start gliding it across his skin slowly, the blood seeping out. He screams for me to stop, and I absorb every single second of it. In fact, it fuels me, and the more he begs and yells, the more my chest swells, and the feeling of victory consumes me. I feel vindicated.
I get to the bone and stop, leaving the knife in his finger.
“You deserve everything my husband does to you.” I turn and look at Nico. He doesn't look happy anymore, nor is he gloating like he did when I started, but I don't care.
I made Damian bleed.
“I don't want him dead. I want him to walk around with no fingers. That's not a request.” I walk away, and Nico yells at Giulio to follow me. The underboss does, and I make it out of the warehouse.
Giulio leads me to the car he came in, and he opens the back door for me. I slide inside and settle in.
“Take me home,” I demand as he shuts his door.
“I need to ask Nico. Give me a moment.”
“Giulio, take me home. You don't need his approval if I’m just going home. He can finish business.”
He eyes me in the rearview mirror, and I tilt my head, challenging him to test me.
“Yes, ma'am.”
The entire way home, I think of Nico and what he just gave me the opportunity to do. I even let a tear fall over the betrayal and the embarrassment of knowing others have seen me in those videos and pictures. But I mostly focus on my husband and what he was willing to do for… for me.
“Giulio.”
“Yes, Mrs. Valiente?” He gets off the freeway.
“Did he…? How are the photos and videos getting taken down?”
“Nico is taking care of it. We have people working on it. Everything should be taken down before you wake up in the morning.” His phone rings over the car’s speakers as we pull into the garage.
“Sir,” Giulio answers.
