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"Mathias Fiore destroyed my family,” Crino wheezed, his voice dripping with venom. "I wanted his blood to stain the earth, and for that, I needed to crush his son, to make him suffer."
My mind raced, attempting to process his words. My father had certainly done terrible things in his lifetime, and I knew there was some betrayal involved, but the scale of Crino's vendetta was staggering.
"You think killing me will avenge your family?" I asked incredulously. "This cycle of vengeance will never end."
Crino let out another bitter laugh mingled with pain. "Oh, Emilio, you're so naive. Killing you was just a small part of the plan. My revenge against Mathias wasn't going to end with your death. Do you think I’m the one who planned this?"
A cold shiver slithered down my spine as the implications of his words settled in. Had Crino just been a pawn in a much larger game? Was he implying that someone else had orchestrated this vendetta, manipulating the Mancini family to enact their dark scheme against the Fiores?
"You're finished, Emilio," Crino spat, his laughter now more desperate, more deranged. "Even in death, you'll never escape the truth. The true mastermind is beyond your reach."
Anguish and frustration surged through me. Crino's maniacal laughter echoed in my ears, a cruel reminder of the tangled web of secrets and feuds that had led us here. Suddenly, I felt like a puppet in a much grander show, the strings pulled by an invisible hand, and my father's sins seemed to be the linchpin of it all.
"Tell me!" I demanded, my voice strained with urgency. "Who is behind all this? Who orchestrated this vendetta?"
Crino's laughter subsided, replaced by a chilling smile. "You're too late, Emilio. The puppet master is already at play, and you'll dance to their tune until your last breath."
A wave of helplessness washed over me. Crino's eyes flickered, his life slipping away. His revelation had opened a chasm of unanswered questions, a void that threatened to consume me.
"I'll find them," I vowed, my voice a low growl.
Crino's eyes glazed over, and he breathed his last. His revelation was another weight added to my shoulders. My mind raced with the consequences of his words.
It seemed this blood feud was far from over. The true orchestrator lurked in the shadows, pulling the strings and manipulating families for their sinister purposes.
I would unearth the truth, I would unravel this dark plot. I had to bring an end to this lurking shadow of death that had plagued our lives for so long.
Chapter 23
Griselda
Inthosehecticdayswhen Emilio was deep in his plans to deal with the Mancini family, I found myself spending a lot of time alone. The apartment felt empty without him, and it was hard not to worry about the future constantly.
One day, as I sat on the couch, a wave of nausea hit me out of nowhere. I tried to brush it off, blaming it on the stress that had become my regular companion. I hadn’t been feeling like myself for a couple of days.
At first, I attributed it to being cooped up in the silent penthouse every day. I was used to working hard at the firm, keeping my mind occupied. Here, there was too much empty time, just begging to be filled with stress, fear, and worry.
Emilio’s safety had consumed my mind, the dangers that seemed to close in on us with each passing day. The constant state of alert and dread had taken a toll on my physical well-being. Feeling queasy had become a part of my daily existence, and although I'd tried to push through it, the persistent discomfort left me drained.
Each day spent in the penthouse without Emilio was a day filled with anxiety, and my longing for his safe return was only eclipsed by my overwhelming relief when he came home unharmed.
I couldn't help but wonder, though, if this amount of nausea were truly just a result of heightened stress and anxiety. I wasn't just concerned for my own sake; Emilio was walking a treacherously dangerous path. The perils that encircled our lives were as much his burden as they were mine.
Andrea, who I only recently found out was a doctor, popped by to drop off medical supplies for Emilio. Emilio was held up somewhere, so Andrea was running late, adding to the slight chaos of the moment.
We were knee-deep in discussions about bandages and medications when my stomach churned again, making me feel queasy and off. Andrea noticed my discomfort and paused, concern written all over his face.
"You feeling alright?" he asked, genuine worry in his voice.
I managed a weak smile, "Yeah, just the stress, I think."
But Andrea, with his medical instincts, wasn't convinced.
"If you're not feeling good, it's important to take care of yourself," he insisted. Andrea, being the ever-attentive doctor, wasn't one to take health lightly. "You're sure it's not a bug?"
I tried to reassure both him and myself. "Yeah, it's just a minor discomfort, probably nothing."
Andrea could see through my feeble attempt at a smile. He paused, no longer interested in our discussion about medical supplies.
