Chapter 40
Elara stared at the screen of her mobile phone. She has sent more than 20 messages to Dante, but he hasn’t replied to any
It had been a week since the club incident, a week since she had seen him. “
She hadn’t slept properly since then. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Dante’s face, the disappointment in his eyes, the way he had walked out without a word. She had replayed the scene over and over in her mind, cursing herself for her recklessness. How could she have let her jealousy cloud her judgment?
Her stomach growled, but she ignored it. Food had lost its appeal. Everything tasted like ash in her mouth. She just wanted Dante back, to clear the misunderstanding to make things right.
Her phone buzzed on, jolting her from her thoughts. She lunged for it, her heart leaping with hope. It was a text from Dante.
“Get ready. Mark will pick you up in 30 minutes.
The message was brief, cold, devoid of any warmth. Elara’s heart sank. She wanted to reply, to pour out her apologies. But she knew it wasn’t the time. From the message. it was clear Dante was still angry, but at least she would finally see him
Thinking this, the hurried to the closet, her hands trembling as she changed into a simple black dress. She didn’t know what to expect, but she wanted to look presentable.
Exactly 30 minutes later. Mark arrived. His expression was serious, his eyes avoiding hers as he opened the car door for her.
“Mark, what’s going on? Elara asked as she slid into the backseat.
Mark hesitated before answering. The elders have summoned you, Young Madam. They need to speak with you.
Elara’s stomach churned. The elders were the lawmakers of the mafia world, their word was almost law. If they were involved, it meant the situation was grate
“What do they want with me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mark shook his head. “I don’t know that”
The drive to the meeting place was silent, the tension palpable. Elara’s mind raced with possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last
They arrived at a grand building, its architecture imposing and ancient. Mark led her through the corridors, their footsteps echoing in the silence.
Finally, they reached a set of double doors. Mark pushed them open, revealing a hall that looked like a courtroom. High ceilings, dark wood paneling, and a raised platform where several stern looking men sat in their late 50s…the elders.
In the centre of the room, on a chair that resembled a throne, sat Dante. He was smoking a cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a halo. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were cold, unreadable.
Elara’s heart ached at the sight of him. She wanted to run to him, to throw herself into hikanns, but she knew she couldn’t. Not now.
Beside the elders, Dante’s friends and Nero, his brother, were seated. Mark signalled for Elara to sit beside Nero.
As she approached, Nero glanced at her and smirked. Elara timidly took the seat next to him
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“What’s going on?” she whispered, her voice trembling. Nero’s smirk widened “Sister–in–law, what did you do! Brother is in such a big mess no
Elara’s eyes widened. “W–what? Why?” Nero shook his head dramatically. “The stunt you pulled in the club is now known by everyone. Brother’s image is stained. How can he sit on the throne now?”
Elara felt a wave of guilt crash over her. “What will happen now, Neto? How can I help him?”
Nero’s eyes glinted with something unreadable. “You really want to help brother?”
Elara nodded desperately. “Yes, please. Is there something I can do?” She asked with hope.
Nero leaned closer, his voice low. “There is only one way.”
Before he could elaborate, one of the elders cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. The elder was an old man with a long white beard, his eyes sharp and piercing.
“We are here to address the matter of Dante Romano’s eligibility to lead the Mafia” the elder began, his voice deep and authoritative.
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Elara’s heart pounded in her chest. She glanced at Dante, who remained impassive, taking another drag from his cigarette.
The elder continued. “The incident at the club has brought shame to the Romano name. Loyalty and honour are paramount in our world. A leader must be above reproach.”
Elara felt like she was going to be sick. This was all her fault.
Just then, Nero leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “The only way to save him is to prove your loyalty… You have to show them you are the wife, show them that it was a personal matter between you and him, and this court has no right to question the heir to the mafia throne.
Flara’s breath caught in her throat, “W–what? How can I do that?”
Nero’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You need to make a statement. A bold one. Show them that you and Dance are united, that what happened at the club was nothing more than a lovers‘ quarrel. Make them see that questioning his honour is questioning yours.”
Elara’s mind raced. “But how?”
Nero’s lips curled into a smirk. As he whispered his master plan in her cars. Elara’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I can’t do that,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Nero’s gaze hardened. “It’s the only way, sister–in–law. Don’t you want to save your husband? He was trained since he was ten to become the mafia boss, and now he might be removed because of such a small matter. Don’t you feel guilty!”
Elara bit her lip, her eyes dropping to her lap. The guilt was a lead weight in her chest. She had to fix this.
The elder’s voice boomed through the hall, cutting through her thoughts. “Elara Romano, step forward”
Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to stand, her legs trembling beneath her. She was told to stand in the witness box. Glancing back at Nero, who showed her thumbs–up.
Instead of walking to the witness box, she turned her gaze to Dante. He sat there, still as stone, his eyes fixed ahead, refusing to look at her. His coldness was a knife to her heart, but she couldn’t back down now,
With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and walked toward him, her heels clicking against the marble floor. The room fell silent, every eye on her as she approached Dante’s chair.
Without hesitation, she slid onto his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck. A collective gasp rippled through the court, the elders stiffening in their seats. Dante’s body tensed beneath her, but he didn’t push her away.
One of the elders, a man with a sharp nose and hawk–like eyes, opened his mouth to speak, but the look on Dante’s face a dark, warning glare made him falter and sit back down.
Elara’s fingers trailed along Dante’s jaw, her nails grazing his skin lightly. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely restrained anger simmering beneath the surface. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.
“I am Elara Romano,” she declared, her voice steady and clear, “the wife of Dante Romana, the heir to the throne. You have committed a sin by calling my husband here on the basis of something so trivial. Do you think we have free time for this nonsense?”
Her words echoed through the hall, and she could feel the shift in the air. The elders exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable, but she saw the flicker of uncertainty in their eyes.
The hawk–eyed elder leaned forward, his voice sharp. “You accused your husband of infidelity in public? Mrs Romano. If he was innocent, why did you make such a scene? It questions both of your loyalties and makes your marriage seem like a farce. Were you forced to marry him!”
Elara’s blood boiled at the accusation. She turned her gaze to the elder, her eyes blazing with defiance. Without a word, she cupped Dante’s face. her fingers sliding under his chin, lifting it slightly. Then, she leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was fierce, possessive, a declaration to the entire room that he was hers and she was his. Her lips moved against his, demanding, insistent. But Dante didn’t respond. He sat there, unmoving, his lips cold.
Anger flared inside her. How dare he? After everything, he still refused to acknowledge her? She bit his lower lip, hard enough to draw a reaction, but still, he remained süll, his hands resting on the arms of the chair, not touching her.
The kiss lingered, the silence in the room deafening. Elara p
pulled back slightly, her breath ragged, her eyes searching his. But Dante’s gaze was fixed ahead, his jaw clenched.
The elder cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the tension. “Mrs. Romano, this display does not answer our questions. If your marriage is genuine, why did you accuse him in public?”
She turned to face the elders, still seated on Dante’s lap, her arm draped possessively around his shoulders. “What happens between a husband and
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court or the
wife is private,” she said, her voice steady. 1 was angry, yes, but it was a personal matter. A misunderstanding. It does not concern this e mafia. My husband is loyal, and I stand by him.”
The elders murmured among themselves, their expressions sceptical. The hawk–eyed eller spoke again. “And yet, your actions have caused a scandal. The heir’s reputation is tarnished. How do you propose to rectify this?”
She stood up, stepping away from Dante, her eyes blazing, “Rectify! There is nothing to rectify. My husband is the rightful heir, and no one is above him. If anyone dares to question his honour again, they will answer to nic”
A hush fell over the room. Even the elders seemed taken aback by her audacity. Elara could feel Dante’s gaze on her now, but she didn’t dare look at
The eldest of the elders, the one with the white beard, spoke slowly. “Mrs. Romano, your words are bold, but words alone do not erase the damage done. There must be consequences.”
Elara’s stomach dropped.
Before she could respond, Dante’s voice cut through the silence, low and dangerous. “Enough”
He stood up, his presence commanding the room. The elders stiffened, their eyes narrowing. Dante stepped forward, his gaze fixed on the elders, his expression cold as ice.
This trial is over,” Dante declared, his voice like steel cutting through the murmurs of the court. “My wife has spoken. The matter is closed.”
The elders exchanged glances, tension crackling in the air. One of them, the hawk–eyed Ricardo Tommas, stood abruptly, his face flushed with indignation. His chair scraped against the marble floor, the sound sharp in the heavy silence.
Nero’s laughter rang out, loud and mocking, drawing every eye in the room. He leaned back, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the spectacle. Riccardo’s gaze snapped to him, but Nero only smirked wider, unfazed
The hawk–eyed elder’s fists clenched at lus sides, his knuckles white. “Dante Romano, you are treading dangerous ground,” he spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage.
Dante’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was no humour in it. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto Riccardo. “Do you have the guts to stop me, Riccardo Tommas?” His voice was low, a dare wrapped in velver.
Riccardo’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding audibly
Dante turned away from him, dismissing the elder as if he were nothing. His gaze found Elara’s, and for the first time since the trial began, he looked at her. There was a storm in his dark eyes, anger, yes, but something deeper.
Follow me “he said coldly to Elara. Making her shiver.
