Chapter 6

• Domenico
• “Wh—what?” she stuttered, her body trembling violently.
• I cocked my head to the side, a frown settling on my face. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Chiara. Get back here. Let’s conclude this,” I ordered.
• But to my surprise, she did the one thing I never imagined she would do.
• She slumped.
• At first, her knees wobbled, then her body crashed to the floor with a loud thud.
• Thankfully, Abel was quick enough to place his feet in the way, so her head landed on his shoes instead of the hard floor.
• My brows knotted, my forehead creasing deeply. Was she pretending? Did she think this was some sort of joke? Didn’t she understand how important this was?
• My company was literally hanging by a thread.
• No. Absolutely not.
• “Chiara! Chiara! Get up. Stop this nonsense!” Gwendolyn hurriedly crawled over to her and began shaking her, but there was no response.
• “Get me water! Juice! Anything! Anything to wake her up!” she yelled at the maids, who scattered immediately to carry out her orders.
• “Come on, wake up.” Gwendolyn dabbed Chiara’s cheek. “Do you want to get us all killed? We agreed on this, so what’s all this? Please, Chiara, wake up. Look at your father. Please…”
• An exasperated sigh escaped my lips. Fuck the Gallos. Fuck Grandfather.
• My jaw tightened as I watched the dramatic scene unfolding before me. “How many minutes more?” I asked, turning to Abel.
• “Twenty-six minutes, Boss,” he replied.
• I rolled my wheelchair forward until I was right beside Chiara.
• “Get out,” I snapped at Gwendolyn.
• She didn’t hesitate—she scrambled away immediately.
• I leaned closer and snapped my fingers against Chiara’s forehead.
• “Weakling,” I hissed.
• Then I turned to the priest, who had been trembling ever since I arrived. His face was drained of all color, his eyes hollow.
• I gestured for him to step forward. “Get the marriage certificate and the rings.”
• I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been forced to come here. He certainly looked like it. No sane person would willingly agree to officiate something like this.
• He stepped forward, shaking so badly with each step that I doubted he’d make it to me. Somehow, he did.
• He already looked traumatized. When I gripped his arm, his entire body began to shiver uncontrollably.
• “Is this still—” One glare from me shut him up instantly.
• I snatched the ring boxes, then the unsigned marriage certificate.
• “Godfather made it compulsory that she signs it, but she’s unconscious. What do we do?” Abel asked, worry lacing his voice.
• I didn’t reply.
• I took the pen and signed my name on the certificate. Then I stabbed my palm twice with it. A small smile curved my lips as blood welled up.
• I grabbed Chiara’s limp arm, secured her thumb between my fingers, smeared blood from my palm onto it, and pressed her thumbprint onto the space meant for her signature.
• “This should do,” I murmured.
• I removed one of the rings from the box and slid it onto her middle finger, then took a picture of it.
• After that, I tossed her arm aside. It fell limply against the floor.
• My gaze flickered to the Gallo couple, still seated on the floor, horror filling their eyes as they stared at me like I was deranged.
• “Why does this certificate carry a different name from the one my grandfather gave me?” I asked coldly. “As far as I know, my bride does not bear the name Chiara. Who is she?”
• “She’s your bride, I swear,” Gwendolyn blurted out. “The first name belongs to her sister. There was a switch in names.”
• I rolled my eyes. There was something about her that disgusted me—something that gnawed at my gut.
• “Sister?” I scoffed. “The Gallos have only one child. Are you playing games with me?”
• “No, no,” Raphael muttered weakly, clutching his bleeding shoulder. “She’s our daughter. She just prefers a quiet life. She likes staying with her grandparents—that’s all. She’s ours.”
• I stared at them for a moment longer before finally turning away.
• “Arrange guards to take her home in the other car,” I ordered briefly, then motioned for Abel as he began pushing my wheelchair away.
• He helped me into the car before returning to get Chiara.
• Less than a minute after he left, my phone began to ring.
• I didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was. I lazily accepted the video call.
• “Where is she? How did it go? I hope you didn’t—”
• I cut Grandfather off by lifting the marriage certificate into view.
• “Happy now? I’m heading to the company. If there’s any delay, blame your choices. Today is the handover,” I declared.
• He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, his face scrunched up. “What did you do, Domenico?”
• “What?”
• “On her part, there’s a fingerprint instead of a signature—and is that blood?” He gnashed his teeth. “Domenico!”
• “It’s mine,” I huffed. “Duh.”
• “You forced her!”
• “No! She passed out! You chose a weakling for me. You should be grateful I got married at all. Stop looking for faults,” I groaned, rubbing my forehead.
• “It doesn’t matter whether she passed out or not! I wanted her signature on that paper!”
• “This is valid too. It has her fingerprint. I’ll meet you at the handover,” I scoffed.
• I was about to hang up when he spoke again.
• “There’s no handover. No ceremony.”
• My brow twitched. “What did you just say?”
• “Come on, I’m an old man. I can’t juggle things like this,” he sighed.
• I closed my eyes briefly, forcing myself to remain calm.
• “So you tricked me into this? What exactly do you want, Alaric?” My voice dropped, dark and dangerous.
• “Well…” He tightened his lips. “There is a handover—but my way. You still have a little something left to do.”
• I leaned back in my seat. That cunning old man.
• “Your marriage is almost useless to me,” he continued. “I want a valid assurance. I’ve sent a document you’re meant to sign—with your wife.”
• I said nothing.
• “Nothing too serious,” he added casually. “She only needs to accept that she’ll give you an heir within a year, and that there will be no divorce for at least three hundred and sixty-five days.”
• I smirked. “Easy.”
• “No,” he said firmly. “I want it signed willingly. I want it filmed, Domenico—no cutting corners.”
• “You know her carrying my heir means nothing.”
• “That’s your business,” he scoffed before ending the call.
• I tossed my phone aside. I knew exactly what he wanted.
• And I was going to give it to him.
• Anything for my father’s company, even if it meant playing low and dirty.