Chapter 164: Well, That Was One Hell of a Dinner Party

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Castelli guards surged forward as Dante’s men scrambled to regroup, but they were outnumbered and caught off guard, their focus split between Lorenzo and the men closing in from either side.

Weapons went flying, chairs toppled, and one of the servants near the doors let out a distressed sound before wisely deciding to make a hasty exit.

I tightened my grip on Emil and moved further back, trying to shield him while Timothy held his ground between us and the chaos.

"Don’t look, sweetheart," I murmured when Emil lifted his head, curious about the commotion. "Nothing to see here, just some grown ass Alphas showing why they shouldn’t be allowed to plan dinner parties."

His small arms hugged me tighter, and I pressed my cheek against his hair, furious that he had to see any of this.

Across the room, Dante groaned as he tried to get up, but Nikolai was already on him, reaching him before he could regain his footing.

In one smooth motion, he caught Dante around the shoulders and slammed him back to the floor, twisting his arm behind him and pinning him down.

It was almost graceful, which felt unnecessarily insulting to Dante, I’d imagine.

"Stay down," Nikolai instructed, his tone calm as if he were correcting a minor inconvenience rather than subduing Dante.

"Get your hands off me!" Dante snarled, struggling. "You treacherous, fucking dogs! You think this changes anything?!"

Nikolai adjusted his hold, keeping Dante immobile without making it look like he was putting in too much effort. "It changes your immediate ability to reach a weapon, which is a promising start."

I would have appreciated the joke more if I hadn’t been clutching a terrified child in the middle of men who treated gunfire like a regular family chat.

Within minutes, the remaining bodyguards were disarmed and forced to the ground, their weapons taken and their hands secured behind their backs.

The dining room looked like a small war had erupted between the main course and dessert, with chairs scattered and expensive food smeared across the tablecloth.

Lorenzo stood over Dante for a moment, breathing heavily as he tried to regain his composure.

Then he bent down, picked up the gun Dante had dropped, and examined it with a detached expression before unloading it and checking the chamber.

He took it apart with almost casual movements, setting the pieces of the gun beside the untouched roast, as if he were dealing with a troublesome household item.

When he finally looked down at Dante, his eyes were icy enough to send chills down my spine.

"I don’t know who’s been poisoning your mind against me," he said, "but I plan to find out. The brother I grew up with and admired would have demanded answers before declaring me guilty of something so monstrous. He would have questioned the evidence, sought the truth, and not let grief justify destroying those left behind."

Dante struggled against Nikolai, his cheek pressed to the floor as he glared up at Lorenzo.

"You expect me to think you’re innocent?! Fuck you!"

"I expect nothing from you anymore."

For the first time, Lorenzo’s voice sounded genuinely worn out, and that realization stung more than I’d anticipated.

He was ready to go up against an enemy, maybe even a traitor, but he hadn’t expected to find out that his own brother had spent years seeing him as a killer.

"Someone has crafted a story that paints me as the villain and justifies your hatred," Lorenzo continued. "Maybe they wanted you to believe I killed Elizabeth. Maybe they knew you’d never forgive me if you thought it was true, and maybe that was their goal all along."

Dante’s eyes shifted, but he didn’t say a word.

"I won’t pretend to know the full truth yet," Lorenzo added. "I don’t understand why Elizabeth said my name, why my car was at your house, or who convinced you those details meant only one thing. But I know this: someone has been pushing us to destroy each other while a larger threat bids it’s time, and I won’t make their job easier by allowing my family to kill itself off."

He straightened, the broken gun still resting on the table behind him, and once again, the authority of the Don settled over him.

"Take him and his men away. Anyone who lets them escape will answer to me personally."

His gaze swept over the guards, and his voice dropped to a level that pushed even the toughest men to stand tall.

"I will beat them to death myself."

"Yes, Don!" the guards responded in unison.

Nikolai hoisted Dante up while two other guards secured his arms, and the older man instantly started struggling again, hurling curses at Lorenzo and promising that the truth would ultimately bring him down.

His men were pulled to their feet and herded toward the doors, their shouts growing louder as they realized no amount of noise would change their fate.

"Lorenzo!" Dante yelled, twisting against his captors. "You can’t lock me away and expect this to vanish! You know what happened to Elizabeth, and you will pay for it!"

Lorenzo didn’t reply.

He stood in the midst of the wreckage, watching his brother being led away, his expression so composed that I couldn’t tell if he was furious, crushed, or simply too worn out to feel anything.

Finally, the doors closed behind the prisoners, leaving the rest of us surrounded by overturned chairs, scattered silverware, untouched food, and the lingering, unmistakable scent of gun oil.

Matteo stood beside his chair, one hand pressed to his forehead, looking like he’d aged a decade during dinner, while the remaining guards began restoring order and ensuring no one was injured.

Timothy lowered his weapon but stayed close until he was sure the immediate threat had passed.

Only then did I take a proper look at Lorenzo.

He was still standing amidst the chaos, breathing heavily, his shoulders tense and hands gripping the dismantled pieces of Dante’s gun.

The accusations weren’t resolved, the questions about Elizabeth’s death still hung in the air, and beyond the Castelli estate, someone might just be celebrating the fact that two brothers who once shared a home were now on opposing sides of a conflict neither fully understood.

I defended Lorenzo in front of everyone, and I would do it again if needed, but as I watched him staring at the empty doorway Dante had just passed through, I realized that shielding him from a false accusation might be the easiest part of what was to come.

The real challenge would be figuring out why his own brother believed it.

And if someone had indeed spent months feeding Dante lies about Elizabeth’s death, then I had a sinking feeling that our ruined dinner was just the beginning of an even uglier family saga.