readsfreenovel Chapter 236 - 46
Chapter 236 - 46
The Romano estate in New York had never been quiet.
For decades it carried the hum of footsteps, the echoes of deals whispered behind oak doors, the low thunder of men who moved power like currency. The walls had heard confessions, betrayals, threats dressed as blessings, and every shade of loyalty in between.
But tonight, silence fell over the house like mourning cloth.
Not even the fountains in the courtyard dared to break it.
Donna Carmela sat alone on the velvet chaise in her private salon, a glass of untouched red wine on the low table, her fingers clasped tightly around her rosary. She did not pray often—not since she realized God had very little to say to families like theirs—but tonight her hands moved through the beads with a quiet urgency.
Her son’s wife was fighting for her life.
Her granddaughter—born too early—rested in a fragile bassinet in the NICU.
And her son...
Her son was out there unleashing a storm the world had not seen since Don Vittorio himself walked these halls.
She had expected thunder tonight.
Not silence.
Not the suffocating kind.
Not the kind that clung to the corners like a warning.
A faint click snapped her attention toward the door.
Alejandro stepped inside.
He didn’t knock.
He never knocked.
When he first moved into her life, into her space, she’d found the arrogance charming. A young lover with fire, boldness, and a mouth that could make her laugh even when she wanted to curse the sky.
Tonight, none of that charm showed.
He closed the door quietly, too quietly, and leaned his back against it.
His eyes were unreadable—flat in a way she’d never seen.
"You didn’t answer your phone," he said.
She studied him carefully.
Her instincts prickled.
She’d spent most of her life reading dangerous men, surviving them, outsmarting them. She recognized the shift in energy, the tension in the shoulders, the way someone’s silence spoke louder than bullets.
"My phone is elsewhere," she replied.
He walked closer. Slow, measured steps.
Not the stride of a man in love.
The stride of a man with intent.
"Did you hear?" Alejandro asked.
She didn’t respond.
"Jace is tearing the city apart," he continued. "He thinks this was an attack. On Mira. On the baby."
"It was," she said quietly.
His smile was thin. "So they say."
Her breath stilled.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Alejandro came closer and picked up her glass of wine, swirling it lazily.
"You shouldn’t drink alone."
"I’m not drinking," she said.
"Yes, I noticed." He set the glass back down. "You’re tense."
"I have a grandchild fighting for her first breath," she replied. "And a son who may burn down Los Angeles by dawn."
His eyes flicked to hers.
Too sharp.
Too amused.
Too knowing.
Carmela’s heart tightened.
There it was—subtle but unmistakable—the glimmer of someone enjoying chaos rather than fearing it.
"Alejandro," she said slowly, "where were you today?"
He lifted his brows. "I was here."
"All day?"
"Yes."
"You didn’t leave the estate?"
"No."
A beat.
"Why?"
Her pulse steadied.
Her mind sharpened.
"Because someone planned this," she said. "And whoever did was close enough to watch the opportunity form."
He chuckled lightly. "Your paranoia is showing."
"And your composure is too perfect."
Something dark flashed behind his eyes.
He moved closer.
Too close.
"Carmela," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "You’re upset. You’re emotional. You’re imagining things."
Her jaw tightened.
She had spent her life surrounded by men who dismissed women under the guise of tenderness.
Alejandro had never spoken to her that way.
Not until now.
"Tell me something," she said, stepping back from his touch. "What do you gain from this?"
His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
"From what?"
"From my son’s downfall."
The air in the room shifted.
He tilted his head. "You think I want that?"
"I think," she said carefully, "that someone orchestrated all of this. The smear campaign. The leaks. The threats. The attack. Someone who knew when Jace would be gone. Someone who knew Mira would be vulnerable. Someone who knew how to stir the city and blame the shadows."
Alejandro didn’t blink.
"And you think that someone is me?"
"Should I?" she asked softly.
There was no fear in her tone.
Only truth.
And that truth hit its target.
His mask slipped.
Just slightly.
Enough for her to see the hatred buried beneath the charm.
"You raised a tyrant," he said quietly. "You think you can’t see evil because you birthed it."
Her breath caught.
"That boy of yours," he continued, "walks around like he owns the world. Like he is owed loyalty. Like everyone should bow. I’m tired of bowing."
Carmela stepped back, her pulse deepening but her expression steady.
"So this is about pride," she whispered. "Wounded ego."
"This is about justice," he snapped. "Your family has ruined more lives than you can count. You think you can rebuild the Romano empire without expecting ghosts to knock?"
"And Mira?" Carmela asked. "What did she do to you?"
Alejandro shrugged, expression chillingly flat. "Collateral damage. Like the rest."
The room tilted for a moment.
This wasn’t a tantrum.
Wasn’t a jealousy-laced argument.
This was revelation.
And it hurt worse than betrayal.
She had brought him into her home.
Into her life.
Into her bed.
She had softened for him.
"My son is hunting the man responsible," she said slowly.
Alejandro smiled.
Smiled.
"And it isn’t me he’s found, is it?"
Her breath stilled.
"You set up the photographer," she whispered.
"You fed Isabella information."
"You gave access to the attack."
His jaw ticked.
A flicker of annoyance.
"That woman needed a push to act faster. I gave her one."
Carmela swallowed a rush of nausea.
"You touched my family," she whispered. "You touched a pregnant woman. You touched my grandchild."
"And I will finish what I started," he said simply. "The empire needs to fall."
He moved.
Too fast.
His hand reached for her throat.
But Donna Carmela Romano had been raised by wolves long before Alejandro’s parents ever met.
She ducked, twisting her body with a trained sharpness she rarely showed.
His fingers grazed her shoulder instead of her neck.
She spun, grabbed the heavy marble wine bottle from the table, and swung hard.
The bottle cracked against his forearm.
He snarled in pain.
"You should’ve stayed in your place," he hissed.
"You should’ve never touched mine," she said fiercely.
They clashed again—his movements violent and untrained, hers precise and controlled.
He lunged; she sidestepped.
He grabbed her wrist; she slammed her elbow into his ribs.
But she was older.
Her stamina wasn’t the same.
And he knew it.
He shoved her against the wall, grip tightening around her arm.
"Stay down," he growled.
"Never."
Her free hand darted behind her, fingers closing around the glass shard that had fallen from the table earlier.
With one swift motion, she slashed across his shoulder.
He cried out, stumbling back.
Donna didn’t hesitate.
She ran.
Not in fear but in purpose.
Her bloodied fingers slammed against the security panel beside her bedroom.
She locked the door just as Alejandro hit the other side with his fist.
"CARMELA!" He yelled like a wild dog.
She stumbled back, chest heaving, heart cracking, breath trembling.
Her fingers dialed the only person she trusted.
The call connected instantly.
"Ma?" Jace’s voice came sharp. Alert. Dangerous.
Her throat tightened.
"My son..." She pressed a trembling hand to her chest. "It’s Alejandro."
There was silence for a brief second.
"What about him?"
"He’s the one." Her voice broke. "He planned everything."
The silence on the line shifted. It was heavy and lethal.
"Where are you?" Jace said, sounding like he was in the move.
"In my room. He’s... he’s trying to get in."
"Stay there."
His voice dropped to a cold, dead calm she’d only ever heard once before—when Vittorio died.
"Mom, listen o me."
She swallowed hard, pressing her back to the door.
"I’m listening."
"I’m coming."
Her tears finally fell.
Not from fear.
But from the devastation of what she had to say next.
"Jace..." She whispered. "He’s not just trying to hurt the family."
A crash at the door.
Alejandro’s voice, feral and unhinged:
"YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME!"
Carmela squeezed her eyes shut.
"He wants you dead," she said.
On the other end of the call, something inside Jace broke.
Not loudly.
Like the sound of a soul snapping.
And when he spoke again, his voice no longer belonged to her son. It belonged to the man the city feared.
"Don’t open that door," he said. "Get your guards to tie him down."
She immediately sent an SOS message to the guards all around the house.
"I’m ending this." Jace stated as he hung up.
And for the first time in years...
Donna Carmela Romano prayed.