The Don's Favorite lover Vanished (by Melissa Z) novel Chapter 16

**The Story of a Girl Who Loved a Man Made Entirely of Secrets**

**Chapter 16**

Just as the elevator doors were on the verge of sealing shut, Vincenzo lunged forward, thrusting his hand between them with a desperate urgency that forced the doors to swing back open.

His eyes were ablaze with a manic intensity, a wildness that bordered on obsession. “Wait. We’re not done,” he demanded, his voice edged with a mix of pleading and defiance.

I shot him a frosty glare, one that could have frozen fire, before turning to my father. “Dad, let him in. It’s better to confront this mess now, to lay everything bare once and for all,” I insisted, my resolve hardening.

With a heavy heart, we re-entered the suffocating atmosphere of the private room, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tensions.

Vincenzo still clung to the hope that he could salvage something from this disaster. What he didn’t realize was that he was about to face a public trial, one that would expose the truth for all to see.

“Don Russo,” I began, my voice steady and unwavering, cutting through the oppressive silence like a knife. “Since your son believes that the past is merely a series of ‘misunderstandings,’ I see no harm in reiterating them here. In front of all our elders.”

I rose from my chair, feeling as though I was taking the stand in a courtroom, the weight of my words ready to crush the air around us.

“First,” I stated, my tone laced with icy clarity, “the tunnel. The rocket attack. You used me as a human shield for her.”

Elena gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her shock mirroring the disbelief that rippled through the room.

“Second. The engagement party. The grenade. You chose to shield her again, leaving me to bear the brunt of the explosion. To live or die based on my own merit.”

The old Don’s expression hardened, his face transforming into a mask of stone, devoid of any warmth.

“To satisfy your new woman,” I continued, my voice gaining momentum, “you held me down while that needle etched a Russian eagle over my phoenix. Over the mark I made for you.”

“You forced me to leverage my knowledge of him—our shared knowledge—to craft a custom weapon for Katerina,” I pressed on, my words sharp and unyielding.

Each sentence landed like a bullet, each bullet striking true against Vincenzo’s pale, sweat-slicked visage.

He hung his head, silent, a sinner awaiting the inevitable judgment of his actions.

“And,” I paused, locking my gaze onto him, “you ordered my ‘elimination’ to secure your new alliance. Vincenzo, were these also just ‘misunderstandings’?”

“Enough!” the old Don erupted, rising to his feet with a furious energy that crackled in the air. He stormed toward his son, the tension in the room palpable.

CRACK.

The sound of the slap reverberated through the space, a sharp reminder of the consequences of betrayal.

“You worthless piece of shit!” the old Don bellowed, his voice a thunderous roar. “You have brought shame upon this family!”

My father, Lorenzo Rossi, rose slowly, the gravity of the moment weighing heavily upon him.

He reached into the depths of his coat, drawing forth an ancient dagger, its handle intricately inlaid with the family crest, a symbol of our legacy and honor.

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