Chapter 3
The cinematic, flawless light pouring through the windows felt suddenly harsh and unforgiving. Alessandro Vitale did not shout. He did not curse. The sheer, overwhelming rage that flooded his veins manifested in a terrifying, absolute silence. He began to walk across the dining hall. His polished leather shoes made slow, deliberate, rhythmic sounds against the marble. Each step felt like the ticking of a bomb counting down to detonation.
Bianca, utterly blinded by her own decades of misplaced aristocratic arrogance within the family, mistook his silence for hesitation. She believed her status as the family matriarch and his aunt shielded her from any real consequence. She thought she could dictate the culture of the household.
"She was throwing a tantrum, Alessandro," Bianca lied smoothly, waving a manicured, ring-adorned hand in the air. "She refused to eat the vegetables the chef prepared. I am simply implementing a bit of old-school discipline. You coddle the girl far too much."
Alessandro did not respond. He kept walking, his broad, masculine shoulders tense, the artistic tattoos on his neck shifting as his jaw locked into a rigid line of stone.
Enraged by his lack of immediate agreement, Bianca’s face flushed a deep, violent shade of pink. She refused to back down in front of the capos and the bodyguards. Driven by a toxic, sociopathic need to assert her dominance, she reached down from her chair.
Bianca picked up the heavy metal dog bowl, the cold, congealed scraps sloshing inside it. With a vicious, aggressive motion, she pushed the bowl forcefully toward Sophie’s tear-stained face again.
"Did you hear me, you little brat?" Bianca sneered, her voice echoing loudly. "Maybe humiliation will teach her manners. Eat it."
Sophie shrieked and scrambled backward, her small flats slipping on the marble as she tried to get away from the disgusting smell.
Alessandro reached the end of the table.
He moved with blinding, explosive speed. Before Bianca could pull her hands back, Alessandro reached out. His large, heavily tattooed hands closed around the rim of the metal dog bowl, his grip like a steel vise. He slowly, effortlessly took the bowl directly from Bianca’s hands, tearing it from her grasp with a terrifying display of raw, masculine strength.
"Alessandro, what are you doing?" Bianca gasped, her arrogant facade finally cracking as she looked up into his cold, intimidating eyes.
"I am teaching," Alessandro whispered.
May you like
His deep, slightly raspy voice vibrated in the quiet room. He spoke incredibly slowly, forcing measured, controlled pauses between his words. He kept his volume terrifyingly low, forcing every person in the room to hold their breath just to hear the executioner speak. Every syllable sounded measured, cold, and unspeakably dangerous.
"A lesson. In manners."
