Chapter 161: An Eye for an Eye

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I didn’t need to be told twice, though it wasn’t easy with a four-year-old on my lap and my legs suddenly feeling weak.

Emil stirred at the shouting, clutching my shirt and looking around in confusion.

I hugged him tighter and turned his face into my shoulder before he could see the weapons pointed at everyone.

"It’s okay, kiddo," I whispered, kissing his hair, my heart racing. "Just don’t look, alright? Stay with me."

He let out a small frightened sound and wrapped his arms around my neck, holding on tightly.

A fierce instinct surged inside me, pushing aside my fear.

I could deal with that later, probably have a good emotional meltdown in private later with a blanket and chocolate, but right now, I had a child to protect.

I’d rather take a bullet for him than let him become another casualty of the Castelli family’s knack for escalating personal disagreements into dangerous confrontations.

Timothy moved with me, stepping into the line of fire while creating a path for us. I backed away slowly, keeping Emil close enough to hear my heartbeat instead of the shouting surrounding us.

The floor felt colder under my feet with every step, like even the marble had decided this dinner party was officially over.

Across the room, Lorenzo held his weapon steady on Dante. His face was blank and emotionless again, but only I could see the tension in his fingers and the tight line of his jaw.

He wasn’t just furious.

He was hurt.

And that scared me the most. Because a furious Lorenzo was dangerous. A hurt Lorenzo was the kind of problem you couldn’t bribe, threaten, or distract with dessert.

"The hell is wrong with you two?! Stop this madness!" Matteo yelled, jumping to his feet, his chair scraping on the floor. "Both of you, put the fucking guns down now!"

Neither brother moved.

Matteo glanced between them, his face pale with anger and desperation. "This isn’t what Mother and Father would have wanted! You can’t seriously stand here with guns pointed at each other over and—!"

"Don’t bring them into this!" Dante snapped.

"I will bring them into it because someone here needs to remember we’re still a family! We’re brothers!"

"Step back, Matteo," Lorenzo commanded.

"No!" Matteo’s voice cracked, but he stood his ground. "I’ve watched you two tear each other apart my whole life, and I’m done! If either of you thinks Mamma would want this, you’ve both forgotten her more completely than you realize!"

For a brief moment, something flickered in Dante’s expression, but it was gone before I could grasp its meaning. It was the kind of look you only catch when someone is fighting hard not to feel anything at all.

Lorenzo’s gun stayed steady.

"Tell your men to lower their weapons," he said. "You came to talk about succession, that’s alright. If you have nothing to hide, then answer my questions."

Dante chuckled bitterly, his voice tinged with anger. "You still think this is just about the title?!"

Lorenzo’s face became even less readable. "Isn’t it?"

"Do you really think I came here because I wanted what Father gave you?"

"You’ve spent months resenting his choice."

"Of course I resented it!" Dante’s voice rose, the intensity making it hard to breathe. "You were always the fucking golden child, Mother’s perfect angel, the brilliant strategist, the one Father trusted with everything! He handed you the title, the authority, the family name, all while I was left to accept whatever scraps he thought I deserved!"

Lorenzo’s eyes hardened. "And you think that gives you the right to plot my death? Your own brother’s death?"

For a moment, Dante’s anger wavered, revealing something deeper and more painful underneath.

He looked at Lorenzo as if he were no longer seeing his brother but someone at the center of his biggest tragedy. The kind of look you give a man when the past has finally caught up and decided to settle the score in public.

"You want to know why I want you dead?" Dante said, his voice rising.

Lorenzo stayed quiet. The silence stretched just long enough for every armed man in the room to shift their weight, like the floor itself was holding its breath.

"Because you deserve to die, Lorenzo! You’re exactly what everyone else says you are! A psychotic monster, without a shred of remorse for the people you hurt! You took everything from me and still have the nerve to act like you’re the damn victim here!"

Lorenzo’s grip on his gun didn’t falter, but genuine confusion crossed his face, a crack in his composure that was evident to everyone.

"What are you even talking about?" he asked.

Dante laughed again, but it sounded broken this time, as if years of pent-up frustration had found its way out.

"Don’t pretend you don’t know, bastard!"

"Dante," Lorenzo said, his voice quiet but laced with tension.

"I want you dead because you killed my wife, Lorenzo!"

The words hung in the air like a bombshell, freezing the entire room.

Matteo stared at his brothers in disbelief, his mouth agape, while Timothy stayed before me, weapon raised, and the guards held their ground, unsure whether the next move would bring resolution or chaos.

Even Dante’s bodyguards looked unsettled, their eyes darting between the two brothers as if they hadn’t anticipated the conversation would turn so personal. One of them actually lowered his gun an inch before remembering he was supposed to look threatening.

I stood still, clutching Emil close, grappling with the weight of what I’d just heard.

Lorenzo looked genuinely stunned.

Not furious, not calculating, not the man who could dismantle an enemy with a few well-chosen words.

No, he looked like someone who had just been blindsided. The kind of expression you never expected to see on a man who planned three moves ahead of everyone else in the room.

Dante lifted his chin, gun still aimed at his brother, and his eyes blazed with grief that seemed to overshadow everything else.

"Remember what Father always taught us growing up," he said, his voice quaking with rage. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a fucking tooth."

I tightened my hold on Emil, my gaze fixed on Lorenzo as the accusation settled over the room like thick smoke after an explosion, searching his face for an answer he didn’t have.

Lorenzo was the kind of man you trusted to keep secrets, not the kind you accused of killing Emil’s mother in the middle of dinner with half the family’s security detail watching.