✔️ SLANDEROUS INTENTIONS | +18

Chapter 16

HELENA

Tick tack. Tick tack. Tick tack.

The room is deathly silent. All I hear is the ticking of the clock, like the ticking patience of the Master of this mansion — the brain and leader of a criminal organization — as he waits for an answer.

But I can't speak. My mind feels hollow. My heart is sliding down into my stomach. I feel sick. Licking my lips, I open my mouth, trying to form a sentence, but I can't utter a single word. The atmosphere in the room is thick with tension, and all eyes are on me.

It feels like her life rests on the tip of my tongue, that my answer will seal her fate. If I lie, she'll live to see another day. If I tell the truth, she'll be punished. This mansion has its rules, set by the head of the Mafia, who is now gazing at me with those piercing gray eyes, staring into my soul, making it feel like my body might collapse from the anxiety.

One of his fundamental rules is peace. He demands peace within his mansion. He doesn't tolerate conflict among the staff. And yet, here she is — the bitch who's been picking on me since day one. This is my chance to be rid of her. But I don't want to be complicit in her erasure.

However, I want to keep my tongue, too. I still remember how he said he cuts out tongues when he hears lies — his words from this particular morning are still vivid in my mind. Lying isn't an option. But revealing the truth feels just as fatal. I'm trapped.

"I asked you a simple question, bambola," he says calmly, though his eyes demand an answer. I gulp, my eyes dropping down, looking back and forth, searching desperately for a way out of this trap with dead ends. He is my only way out.

"Come on, bambola, my patience is running low," he hums, his voice calm, but filled with detrimental danger, emanating into the room.

"She tripped and shattered the plates. Then, she cut her hands while gathering the jagged pieces. She—" Tiffany intervenes, her voice trembling as she speaks up for me, veiling the truth with her lies.

But Antonio interrupts her with a crashing slam of his fist on the table. The calm poet disappears, and the savage within him emerges to the surface. His sudden rage jolts me, and every tiny hair on my body stands up in fear. His gaze pierces through Tiffany with an acerbic force, that makes her body tremble in fear.

"Don't speak unless you're asked; know your place!" he snarls with menace. Tiffany nods hastily, her eyes cast down.

Once he puts her in her place, he shifts his attention back to me, his gray eyes boring into mine. "Now tell me, bambola. What happened?" he demands, his voice cold and rigid.

I bite my lip, glancing at Tiffany as her eyes silently begs for mercy. With a heavy sigh, I turn back to him, choosing to lie for her, risking my tongue for my bully.

"I slipped, and the plates crashed to the floor. Then, I cut myself while picking up the scattered shards," I say, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground.

"You can't just slash your hands all over the place while collecting broken pieces," Donatello scoffs, his gaze sweeping over my hands and elbows with disdain.

"Is that true, Triana?" he asks, his cold gaze fixed on me. "I-It's Tif-fany, S-Sir," she stutters in fear. I see her from the side, her whole body shaking.

"I didn't ask you for your name, Triana!" His voice is so loud that it echoes through the entire dining area, swirling around me like a chilling breeze, draining the color from my face and making me pale along with Triana.

"Y-Yes, S-Sir," she stammers with a subtle nod. He lets out a menacing chuckle, claps his hands, and then rises from his seat.

He walks over to Tiffany, whose name he always gets wrong. For a man who converses with poets, I wonder how he remembers so many poets but not her name.