The Don's Orphan Wife Is A Mafia Empire Princess (Elara) novel Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After the call ended, I didn’t pause for even a second. I turned around and began packing. If I was leaving, I would leave clean-nothing of myself behind.

The following morning, Giovanni returned to the estate with Bianca in tow and headed straight for the private underground

armory.

“I’m taking Bianca to the shooting range,” Giovanni said when he noticed me packing, his explanation careless and laced with habitual arrogance. “She needs a gun for protection. Still packing? Where exactly do you think you’re going?”

I didn’t acknowledge him. I simply continued folding my clothes and placing them neatly into the suitcase.

Bianca, however, walked straight to the glass display and lifted a custom-made gold Beretta-the birthday gift Giovanni had given me last year. I used to practice with it regularly.

“Wow, this is beautiful,” she said, turning the gun in her hands. The muzzle drifted deliberately past my forehead as she smiled sweetly. “Oops-sorry, Elara. My hand slipped. Since the Don is teaching me how to shoot, I can borrow this one, right?”

I stared at the dark barrel pointed at me. Instead of anger, a smile curved my lips.

The next second, I seized her wrist, executed a clean disarming move, twisted her grip apart, and tore the pistol from her hand-pressing it firmly against her forehead.

My movements were smooth, precise, and frighteningly fast.

Bianca shrieked, instantly abandoning bravado. She stumbled into Giovanni’s arms, shaking violently.

“Don! Help me! Elara is trying to kill me!”

Giovanni’s expression changed in an instant. He grabbed my wrist and wrenched the gun away.

Pulling Bianca behind him, he glared at me furiously.

“Elara, have you lost your mind?! She was joking, and you actually aimed a gun at her? I know you’re jealous, but there’s a line!”

I flexed my aching wrist and met his gaze without warmth.

“A firearm isn’t a toy. If she doesn’t know how to hold one, I corrected her.”

His eyes darkened with malice. To him, I was clearly the unreasonable one.

He turned toward a discard bin in the corner, rummaged inside, and flung something at my feet.

“If you’re so obsessed with guns,” he said coldly, “take this.”

It was a Smith & Wesson M10.

My body went rigid.

Two years ago, I had been abducted by a rival family. They had pressed this very model against my head and forced me to play

Russian roulette.

That terror had haunted my nights ever since. Giovanni knew this. He had sworn he would protect me-sworn I would never

have to see a gun like that again.

And now, to appease his trembling mistress, he threw my trauma onto the floor.

“Stop causing trouble,” he snapped. “Let Bianca keep the gold one. She saved my life. She deserves the best.”

I stared at the revolver lying before me as the final ember of affection in my heart burned out completely.

Slowly, I bent down and picked it up.

Giovanni mistook my silence for submission. He opened his mouth to speak-

-and I turned, walked to the fireplace, and tossed the gun straight into the roaring flames.

“Elara!” Giovanni exploded. This was no longer about a weapon; I had openly defied his authority. “You burned my goodwill for some outsider? I’ll give you one last chance. Pick it up!”

The firelight danced across my calm expression as I faced him and spoke clearly, deliberately:

“I don’t pick up garbage. Just like I don’t salvage rotten emotions.”

Then I added, without hesitation,

“Giovanni, you disgust me.”

It was the first time I had ever spoken to him like that.

He laughed in fury, a storm raging in his blue eyes.

“Good. Very good. Since you want to be so unyielding, don’t blame me for being merciless.”

“I gave you a way out. You refused it. Don’t come crying when you hit a wall.”

With that, he turned and stormed out of the armory without sparing me a second glance.

Bianca didn’t follow him right away.

She paused at the top of the staircase, looking down at me with open contempt. The fragile mask was gone, replaced by a twisted, triumphant smile.

“Elara, you really don’t understand your position,” she said, stroking the gold pistol in her hand. “So what if you’re the legal wife? Everyone knows whose bed the Don shares every night.”

“How can a discarded woman like you compete with me?”

looked up at her coldly.

“You think a secretary who climbed her way up by taking a bullet will stay favored forever?”

Her expression flickered-then twisted into an eerie smile.

“Forever is all I need.”

Then she leaned back-

-and deliberately hurled herself down the stairs.

“Ah-! Help! Don!!”

Her scream tore through the villa.

Giovanni, who had just reached the entrance, spun around and rushed back in a frenzy.

He saw Bianca crumpled at the bottom of the staircase, blood streaking her forehead. His entire body went stiff.

“Bianca!” He scooped her into his arms, then lifted his head to stare at me above-his gaze colder than death.

“Elara… how could you be so cruel?”

“Out of jealousy, you tried to kill the woman who saved my life?!”

I stood there, looking down at the farce unfolding beneath me, feeling nothing but detached absurdity.

“I didn’t push her,” I said flatly.

But in his eyes, my composure was proof of heartless defiance.

Bianca clutched his collar weakly, tears falling perfectly.

“Please don’t blame Elara… I slipped… Don, don’t argue with Elara because of me…”

The blade twisted cleanly.

The disappointment in Giovanni’s gaze curdled into pure hatred.

“Enough,” he said sharply. “Don’t plead for her.”

Holding Bianca in his arms, he passed me and announced coldly:

“My companion for tonight’s annual Mafia Ball will be Bianca.”

“Since you

can’t fulfill the role of Isabella, I’ll choose someone who can.”

And with the victor in his embrace, he walked away without looking back.

I remained where I was, listening as the engine’s roar faded into silence-along with the last ripple in my heart.

It didn’t matter, Giovanni.

After all, this was the final time I would ever watch you walk away.