Chapter 162: An Accusation Written in Blood

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For a few seconds, it felt like everyone had forgotten how to breathe.

Dante’s accusation lingered in the air like a toxic cloud, more suffocating than any of the expensive wine left untouched on the table.

I found myself staring at Lorenzo, filled with disbelief.

My husband stood there with his gun aimed at his older brother, his expression so meticulously composed that it was hard to recognize the man behind the Don’s exterior. But the shock in his eyes was genuine, and that scared me more than I’d like to admit.

Because catching Lorenzo off guard was nearly impossible to do, trust me.

"You killed my wife, Lorenzo!"

Dante’s voice rang out, thick with years of grief and resentment.

Lorenzo stayed silent at first.

His fingers gripped his weapon tightly, and when he finally spoke, his voice was low enough that everyone leaned in to hear him, despite the guns pointed in all directions.

"I had nothing to do with Elizabeth’s death."

Elizabeth... So that was her name.

Dante responded with a bitter laugh. "Of course you’d say that."

"Because it’s the truth."

"You expect me to believe you?!"

"I expect you to listen before condemning me for something I didn’t do."

"Listen?" Dante repeated, his voice rising as he stepped forward, only to be halted by the weapons aimed at him.

"I’ve spent years listening to excuses, Lorenzo! Trying to understand why everything in this family always seems to favor you. Father chose you as Don, and then Elizabeth died, leaving me drowning in grief, barely even recognizing myself! Do you really think that was just a coincidence?"

Lorenzo’s face remained impassive, but I could see his eyes darken.

"What are you suggesting?"

"That you killed her so I’d be too lost in mourning to challenge Father’s choice. Maybe you wanted everyone to think I couldn’t protect my own family, that I was too weak to lead, so it made sense for Father to choose you!"

Matteo looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language, while I struggled to grasp the weight of Dante’s accusation.

"No...no, that can’t be true...Big bro Enzo would never." Matteo muttered, but he sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than Dante.

It was one thing to suggest Lorenzo had manipulated the family succession... because he actually did, but claiming he murdered his own sister-in-law?

That was a whole new level of bullshit.

Dante wasn’t done, though. Apparently, one shocking accusation wasn’t enough to spoil an expensive dinner.

"And then you married that Omega just a few months later," he went on, lowering his gun towards the floor but not quite letting it drop. "Father always valued the image of a man who could build a family, someone balancing business with a stable home! Elizabeth was gone, I was shattered, and suddenly you had everything Father wanted in an heir: the title, the authority, and the perfect little husband to complete the picture!"

I felt Emil’s small hands clutching my shirt, and I tightened my grip around him. Timothy was close enough to shield us if things got worse.

"Perfect little husband?...This fucking twat." I muttered under my breath, wishing I could just walk away from this family drama, go back to my room and bury myself in a good book.

Timothy shot me a warning glance, which was fair, making sarcastic comments in front of armed criminals isn’t exactly a survival strategy.

Lorenzo never took his eyes off Dante.

"What proof do you have?"

Dante’s face twisted in anger. "You were the last person to see Elizabeth alive."

"That doesn’t prove I killed her."

"People saw your car parked outside our house for hours that day."

"Maybe you should have asked me why I was there in the first place."

"I did ask!"

"And what did I tell you?"

"You lied to me!"

The word burst from Dante with such force that his voice cracked.

For the first time, I noticed something more than anger on his face; there was deep-seated pain there, festering from unanswered questions, fueling his hatred.

"Her last words were your name," Dante whispered, making the room feel even colder. "She was dying, Lorenzo. She could barely breathe, and when I leaned close enough to hear her, all she said was your name. Yours!"

Lorenzo’s expression shifted.

It was subtle, but I caught the moment the words hit him, his eyes widened slightly before he forced them back into a mask of control.

For just a second, he looked less like the most feared man in the underworld and more like someone grappling with an incomprehensible memory.

"I don’t know why Elizabeth said my name," he said, his voice softer now, "but I didn’t kill her."

"You expect me to just accept that?!"

"No," Lorenzo replied, and the simplicity of his answer was almost heartbreaking. "I expect you to find the truth instead of jumping to the worst conclusion."

Dante shook his head violently, as if the suggestion insulted him.

"You’ve always known how to make yourself look innocent."

I wanted to hate Dante for what he was doing, pointing a gun at his brother and reopening old wounds...but I couldn’t ignore the grief behind his words.

He had lost his wife, and whatever had happened that day had left him with a story he clung to for years, the only version he could bear to accept.

But that doesn’t make him right.

And it definitely doesn’t mean Lorenzo is guilty.

For a moment, though, the thought that Dante might actually be speaking the truth crept into my mind, freezing me in place.

I didn’t know Elizabeth, and I hadn’t been there when she died.

What right did I have to dismiss the accusation just because I loved the man standing across the room?

Then I remembered what Lorenzo had shared about his mother.

I thought of the scars on his torso, the boy who had offered himself to kidnappers to save his mother and siblings, and the unbearable guilt he carried even though he was just a child who couldn’t have saved her.

I thought of how tender he was when he spoke of Isotta and the sister he could have had, revealing a side of him that felt precious whenever he let me in.

I remembered how he’d helped his ex-fiancées escape the arrangements his father had set for them, even when it complicated his life way more than it already was.

I remembered how he would hold me close at night, as if just being near me could shield me from our past hurts.

His gentle touches on my bruises...

Lorenzo was controlling, ruthless, stubborn, and emotionally closed off...sure he tortured and killed people who were a threat to the Castellis, but I’d never known him to take pleasure in another’s suffering like people said he did.

He could be terrifying when he was angry and was more than capable of violence, yet I couldn’t reconcile the man I knew with someone who would purposefully murder his own nephew’s mother just to secure a title he was already destined to inherit.

I might not know every secret he kept, but I did know this much:

He wouldn’t do that.

"That’s enough," I said.