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The crowd erupts into applause as Ivanov strides forward to claim the keys to the vintage car. His eyes meet mine, a silent message in their depths. “Looks like you’ve lost more than just the auction today,” he taunts, his voice low enough for only me to hear.
I watch as he transfers the money to the dealership account. “Boss,” one of his henchmen mutters. “That’s all your assets. Everything.”
Ivanov slaps him across the face. “And we get double that amount back when we take over Bianchi’s empire. Shut the fuck up. You’re embarrassing me.”
The transfer completed, Ivanov gets to his feet and climbs into the car. The engine roars to life under his touch. He races out of the lot, giving me the finger as he goes.
“What was that about?” Amelia asks, her voice laced with concern as she stands beside me, witnessing the end of an empire. “Slapping that man?”
I let out a slow breath, the weight of my next words heavy on my tongue. “I made him a wager. Whoever lost the auction would hand over his empire to the winner.
“He paid that amount into the dealership’s Zurich account on the assumption he’d make double back when I give him my empire.”
Her eyes widen, disbelief and fear mingling in their depths. “Why would you give him your empire?”
Before I can answer, a loud crash pierces the night, followed by a bright flash of light.
The car, Ivanov’s prize, has slammed into a barrier down the street and exploded, flames licking the night sky as the sound of the impact reverberates through the parking lot.
As the crowd reacts in shock, turning their attention to the inferno, Ivanov’s men look at me, their expressions a mix of suspicion and fear.
“These old cars, sometimes the brakes fail,” I say, my voice calm, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding before us.
“Gianni and his men have already taken over Ivanov’s businesses. His money is mine. His empire is mine. You can join us, or you can die. Your choice.”
One by one, they bow, a silent acquiescence to their new reality. “Good,” I say. “Get back to work.”
Amelia turns to me, her face pale, horror-struck. “Did you kill him?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper against the chaos as sirens grow louder in the distance.
I meet her gaze. “He killed your father, Amelia. That hurt you. No one hurts you and lives.”
“So youdidkill him?”
“A series of happenings befell him, and now he’s dead.Ididn’t do a thing.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for the man she knows beneath the cold calculations of revenge. “You did all this for me?” she asks, the implications of my actions, of our life together, laid bare.
“I’m taking over Ivanov’s empire. That’s what this whole thing has been about.”
She shakes her head. “Bullshit. You did it because you love me.”
“Believe that if you want, dolcezza mia.”
She grins, kissing my cheek. “I believe it because it’s true.”
Her phone rings, and she excuses herself. I watch her, a sense of relief settling over me.
It’s all over. This is the last call she needs to take to resolve everything.
She’s speaking softly, but the concern in her posture is unmistakable. When she turns back to me, there’s a question in her eyes, one that doesn’t need words to be understood. “Mom just found a lot of money in her account,” she says.
I maintain my composure, even as the answer threatens to break through. “Your father must have had a life insurance policy you didn’t know about,” I offer, the lie smooth and practiced.
Amelia relays my response, and the relief that washes over her face as she listens to her mother’s reaction is palpable.
She ends the call with tears in her eyes, a reflection of her mother’s joy.
“It’s enough for Mom to move and put Mia through college. She won’t need my savings now. I can start my graphic design business.”
