Blood Phoenix ：My Fiancé Sold Me To My Eighteen Mafia Fathers Chapter 04
Bianca froze for a second. Then she burst out laughing — sharp, hysterical.
“You’re about to die and you’re still pretending to be her? Julian — pin her down for me!”
“I’m carving this fake tattoo off her, skin and all. Feeding it to the dogs!”
Julian nearly jumped out of his skin. He drove his heel straight down on my bleeding knee. Pain blazed through me.
“Miss Ricci, please! This bitch is out of her mind!”
“She heard Scar mention the Don’s looking for someone — and suddenly she thinks she’s the principessa!”
Bianca smacked the flat of the blade against my cheek. Over and over. Playing with me.
“You? You think you get to call yourself the Don’s daughter? I’m the Don’s goddaughter, sweetheart. Me.”
Julian sneered. Then, to prove his loyalty, he ground his boot down harder on my broken bone.
The pain nearly blacked me out. I bit down and swallowed the blood pooling in my mouth.
Three years ago, I took three knife wounds for him. Carried him six miles through a thunderstorm.
Three years of pouring my whole heart into that man. And he sold me out. Drugged me. Delivered me here to die — just to climb another rung up somebody else’s ladder.
The blade sank into my right arm. No hesitation.
The blood-red phoenix — the phoenix Papa inked into me himself — got torn open, skin peeled back. Blood poured onto the marble.
Chloe was clapping. Actually clapping, jumping in place like a spoiled brat at a party.
“Yes! Serves you right, you crazy bitch! Miss Ricci — cut her face too! Do her face!”
Cold sweat ran down my back. My vision blurred at the edges.
But when I looked up at their twisted, gleeful faces — I smiled.
Go ahead. Laugh. Scream. Cheer.
The higher you’re flying right now, the harder you’re gonna hit the ground when my eighteen fathers walk through that door.
“You’re still smiling?!”
My eyes cut Bianca in a way she couldn’t handle. Her jealousy was eating her alive.
“Strip her! I wanna see how long she keeps that attitude when she’s naked on the floor!”
“You got it, Miss Ricci!”
Julian couldn’t get his hands on my collar fast enough.
“Don’t blame me, Sera. Blame yourself for pissing off the wrong people!”
Fabric ripped. Cold air hit my throat.
The humiliation and the pain slammed into me at the same time. My mind went to the coldest place it knew.
Bianca stomped her stiletto down on the side of my face.
The point of the heel dug into my cheekbone. Grinding. Trying to crack the bone.
“You gutter slut. You don’t get to breathe the same air as the Morettis.”
She raised the bloody switchblade. Aimed the point straight at my right eye.
“Let me start with these pretty little eyes of yours. Cut ’em out, drop ’em in a bottle of whiskey for my godfather!”
Death was inches away.
Julian had his hand locked around my throat.
The blade caught the light. Came down —
BOOM.
The massive black iron doors at the far end of the hall exploded inward. Two tons of solid steel — kicked open like plywood.
A man stepped through in a long black coat. He moved through the frost and dust like a god of death touching down on earth.
Behind him, seventeen more shadows poured in. Every one of them radiating pure, killing menace.
All eighteen bosses of the Moretti family. In the room. In the flesh.
The pressure hit like a physical wave. Every set of knees in that hall went weak. Half the men in the room dropped straight to the floor.
Bianca’s hand jerked. The blade stopped half an inch from my eyeball.
She yanked the knife back and pasted on her sweetest little smile, already positioning for credit.
“Godfather! I caught this trash trying to impersonate your principessa — she even said your name to your face!”
Julian was shaking with pure joy. He shoved my head down into the dirt and screamed:
“Don! I brought her in! I’m handing over the piece of trash who dared to disrespect you!”
Salvatore Moretti barely glanced down.
Then his eyes landed on the shape crumpled at his feet — bloody, half-stripped, torn open.
And he saw my face.
Papa froze mid-step. Every ounce of menace pouring off him snapped and went still. His eyes went wide, whites showing all around.
The hall went dead silent. You could hear a heartbeat.
I lifted my head with everything I had left. Blood in my eyes, dirt on my mouth. And I gave him a smile — cold, mocking, pure disdain.
“Salvatore.”
“Three years. And this is how you welcome me home?”