Snapping Point||Book 1

46.

Romano De Rossi

Anger wasn't something I had expected to feel after learning something so cold, perhaps because I'd never expected to experience something this cold from her of all people. Out of all the triggers that could set my blood to a boiling rage, this wasn't even on the list, at least not if the thought would have ever crossed my mind before. It was almost comical how much I cared, though, how jealousy flared in my chest, how my mind concocted countless scenarios involving my own wife. Despite my fucking wandering eyes since our marriage, I couldn't help but resent her for hers.

I'd rewind a bit to pinpoint where I lost my instinctual gut feeling and overlooked the possibility of something like this ever happening. But first, it was important to recount how I had stumbled upon this revelation in this first place.

Shortly after leaving Ottavio's room, I met with my sister in their mansion's garage. There she was, by her car, just stepping out, dressed to the nines like she had business to attend to or someone to intimidate. I skipped the pleasantries of hugs and kisses. That call she made as I left Ottavio's place had my mind in overdrive, a million questions flooding in, each demanding an answer.

Had Ottavio dared to interfere, my alarms would've gone off—that either he or their messed-up world was in trouble. But no, he was as unsuspecting as ever, suggesting this went deeper than anything he was aware of, which meant it concerned Emilia and me. And against all logic, I just knew deep down it was squarely about me.

Facing her, I saw the fire in her eyes, tempered by a hint of sorrow. "I did care for her, I really did..." she choked out, holding back tears. Emilia, on the verge of tears? This was trouble. But who was the subject of our conversation?

She brushed her hair back, not even waiting for me to ask, and kept going, "Maybe it's 'cause deep down, I knew she was trouble. Maybe not knowing what I do about her old man was the trigger. I mean, with that gene pool, who'd expect anything different?"

I lost focus. We were discussing my wife, knowing that much immediately wasn't rocket science at all. "Why the hell are you bawling over Luciana?" I jumped in, getting straight to the point.

"Ludicrous Lucy? These tears aren't for her. Could never be." She brushed away the tears, trying to put on a tough front, but whatever was eating at her, it would dry her out soon. "Feeling sorry for you. I mean, , you and her just tied the knot. Why the rush? We were all thrilled about your marriage, we even warmed up to her a bit, the wedding was off the charts. How could we have shown more support to prevent this?"

"What's this bullshit?" My voice tightened. "You're spinning in circles, and I'm starting to lose my bearings." I flirted with the notion that she might be onto my affair with Xenia,  but Emilia had no links to where I conducted business, and I'd been damn discreet... or so I'd believed.

Emilia turned her back, holding onto the car's window for stability, and started sniffling. She took her sweet time, sniffling repeatedly, while my frustration mounted and her emotions bubbled up.

Then she turned to face me and said, "Remember the drama surrounding uncle Cristiano's wife?"

Yes, I'd handled it myself. God—my heart skipped, but I refused to fill out blanks for myself. I wanted to hear the end of this, though I swear that I knew what it was.

"I haven't told Ottavio because infidelity is a serious matter, and I doubt he'd handle it discreetly to not tear the family down. If anyone else found out before you, it'd be chaos."

"Emilia!" I snapped, taking a step forward. My eyes shot daggers. The tension was unbearable. "You... you're talking nonsense."

"I figured you'd struggle with this. She's been seeing someone else, Roe. Long before the wedding."