The Mafia Princess’s Revenge Chapter 10
Nicola wasn’t looking at her.
His eyes were on me. Adriano’s voice had gone rough—almost raw.
“Elisa.”
I looked up.
He stared at me. His lips moved several times before a single sentence came out:
“These three years… this is how you’ve been living?”
I smiled faintly.
“No.”
All four of them looked at me.
I said quietly: “It was worse than anything you’re seeing now.”
No one spoke.
But Marta suddenly screamed.
“It’s not my fault! She deserved it! If you hadn’t despised her yourselves, how could I have possibly—”
Her words cut off mid-sentence. The faces of all four men changed at once.
I watched them—and felt a wave of bitter irony. Marta was right. The reason she’d been able to push me into hell was never just because she was cruel enough. It was because they had opened the door for her.
Adriano stared at her coldly. “Every single witness who testified about your poisoning, your kidnapping, and Elisa’s so-called abuse of you was paid by the Capello family.”
The silence was deafening.
Marta suddenly burst into tears. “Papa Giulio, let me explain… I was just scared! When I came here, everyone only knew Elisa!
The Greco inheritance was hers. Adriano’s men only protected her. Elio’s private hospital was always open for her. Even Nicola treated her like his own daughter!”
She pointed at me. “Why? Why should all of it be hers? Those things were supposed to be mine!”
Giulio’s expression darkened with every word. “So you framed her?”
Marta bit down hard on her lip. Then—the next second—she laughed.
“Yes.”
The mask finally came off. “I poisoned myself.”
Elio’s body went rigid. Marta turned to him, her smile growing more scathing by the second.
“All I had to do was take one sip—then tell you Elisa handed me the drink.”
“You didn’t even check the surveillance.”
Elio’s face went bone-white.
“The kidnapping was my doing too.”
Adriano’s head snapped up.
“I hired a few people to lock me up for a couple of hours. Then I came crying to you—told you Elisa was behind it.” She laughed. “You personally shipped her off to Mexico.”
Adriano’s fingers curled slowly into fists.
Marta turned to Giulio next.
“And those so-called insults? Obviously fake. But you were all so easy to fool.”
Giulio’s face went black.
Nicola suddenly spoke:
“Why?”
Marta looked at him.
“Because my mother taught me how.”
All four men went still.
But Marta seemed to have thrown all caution to the wind. “You always said Lucia was gentle, kind—that Sofia bullied her, didn’t you?”
She smiled. “It was all lies. My mother told me: as long as a woman knows how to cry, men don’t care about the truth.”
Giulio’s pupils contracted sharply.
Marta went on: “That’s exactly what she did to Sofia. Hurt herself. Staged her own accidents. Then told you—Sofia did it.”
Not a single person spoke. Marta’s laughter only grew louder.
“The funniest part? Over twenty years later—all I did was follow her playbook, step by step.”
She looked at me.
“And you believed it all over again.”
Those words dropped like a stone.
The entire room went deathly silent.
Marta seemed to have finally found the perfect way to destroy them. She fixed her gaze on the four men and spoke, word by deliberate word:
“Why are you acting so shocked? All I did was lie. The one who threw her into a lab was Elio. The one who dumped her in Mexico was Adriano. The one who had her mouth sewn shut was Giulio. And the one who ignored her every single time she begged for help—” She looked at Nicola. “—was you.”
“Did I ever force any of you?”
Each of them looked more stricken than the last.
Marta was right. She was vile—but without them, she could never have destroyed me alone.
Giulio’s voice was ice. “What exactly did Lucia do back then?”
Marta’s smile faltered.
“Want to know?”
She slowly straightened.
“Then you should ask Sofia.”
—