The Mafia Princess’s Revenge Chapter 04
I don’t know how long it was before I opened my eyes again.
Blinding white light filled my vision. The smell of antiseptic burned my nostrils.
Before I could even process where I was, a slap cracked across my face.
Smack—
My head snapped to the side. My ears rang.
“How long are you going to keep this up?”
Elio Fiore stood beside the hospital bed, his expression terrifyingly dark.
“All we did was send you to Mexico for a few years to teach you some discipline. And you tried to run? Jumped into a river?”
The last fragments of memory came trickling back—ice-cold river water, swimming desperately toward West Port, the sudden splash behind me.
Of the four men, I’d once been closest to Elio.
Giulio was always in meetings.
Adriano spent most of every year out of the country.
Nicola’s world was consumed by family business that never ended.
So growing up, the one who spent the most time with me was always Elio.
He taught me to identify medicines, to dress wounds. He’d hold me in his arms and say gently:
“Elisa doesn’t have to trust any doctor—but she can always trust Papa Elio.”
Until Marta’s first week in the Greco estate, when she was hospitalized for “accidentally ingesting” some substance.
When she woke, she cried: “I only drank the juice Elisa handed me.”
I shook my head frantically. “No—I didn’t put anything in it.”
Elio raised his hand to me for the first time.
“Do you know that a slightly higher dose could have killed her?”
Then Marta was “poisoned” a second time.
This time, Elio didn’t even ask. He sent me directly into an underground toxicology research facility owned by the Fiore family. Syringe after syringe was pushed into my body.
Fever. Seizures. Vomiting. My vision growing dimmer and dimmer.
I told him over and over:
“It wasn’t me.”
But he just stood on the other side of the glass.
“Since you’re so fond of using poison, you should know what it feels like to be poisoned.”
In the end, my right eye lost most of its sight permanently. A scar ran from my brow bone to my cheekbone—a mark that would never fade.
Now, the man who’d once told me to trust him forever stood at my bedside.
Seeing that I wouldn’t speak, Elio’s expression grew darker. He raised his hand.
My body shrank almost instantly. Arms shielding my face.
“Don’t hit me.”
The next second, a hand caught Elio’s wrist.
“That’s enough.” Nicola appeared in the room, pale-faced—though the look he gave me still carried revulsion.
“Don’t stop me, Nicola. Elisa’s always been an expert at playing victim. She just wants our sympathy so she can keep tormenting Marta.”
Nicola’s expression shifted subtly.
As if he’d finally found an explanation for why I’d tried so desperately to run.
“Elisa.” Elio turned back to me.
“Marta is so sweet and innocent—you’ve hurt her so badly, and she’s still the one offering to make peace. What more do you want?”
Nicola stood to the side.
“Just get through tonight. You won’t have to go back to Mexico.”
I snapped my head up.
He continued:
“Giulio’s already had your old room prepared.”
“Elio will treat your eye again.”
“Adriano has agreed to let everything that happened before.”
Nicola paused.
“All you have to do is apologize to Marta. Promise you won’t bully her again like before, and we can forgive the despicable things you’ve done. Behave yourself when you come home. No one will send you away again.”
Tears slid down my cheeks. “I want to go to Sicily,” I said.
Both men went quiet at the same time.
I raised my head. “Mama is still alive.”
Elio blinked—then his brow slowly furrowed. “I’ll arrange a full examination for you.” He was still speaking when the door suddenly swung open.
Giulio and Adriano strode in.
Both their faces were grim.
“Marta is missing.”
My heart plummeted.