CHAPTER 23 - ❝Giovanni takes a bullet❞

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CHAPTER TWENTY THREE"GIOVANNI TAKES A BULLET"

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CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
"GIOVANNI TAKES A BULLET"

SCARLETT DEL GATO

They lied to me.

They lied to me after all.

I was sitting beside Giovanni in the passenger seat in his Maserati when he turns to look at me. He doesn't look at me for long before his gaze shifts back to the road in front of him. I think he contemplated whether he wanted to say something to me or not.

Vito was sitting right behind me, typing away on his phone.

"Are you okay?" Giovanni finally asks, releasing a deep breath.

"I'm fine." I snap.

I turn my head, focusing on the sun that started to disappear behind the trees as we drove past them.

I couldn't look at them right now. They lied about my house being burnt down to my face just because they wanted to keep me in their mansion.

Giovanni sighs, hesitating. "I'm sorry we lied to you about the house." He finally says and I see his grip around the steering wheel tightening just a little bit. "I wanted to tell you the truth but it was too late."

I shake my head, still looking out of the window because I still couldn't look at him. "It's just a house now." I tell him. "It's not a home anymore."

I swallow hard, remembering the police tape and the spatter of my brother's blood still lying on the kitchen floor like they didn't even care about cleaning it.

I close my eyes, trying to rid my mind of that image: the fact that my brother's blood was still lying in a pool on the kitchen floor and that the living room was the way we left it, completely ransacked.

"That's not my home anymore."

My home was where my brother was but he isn't here anymore. All that was left inside that house was the remnants of that night when it all went to shit. I don't even remember the good times me and my brother had because all I can ever think about when thinking back at the house is how he was murdered and how his blood wasn't even cleaned up after his death.

I open my eyes again, looking at Giovanni and wasn't even surprised that his eyes were already on me.

His eyes were filled with regret.

It was ironic really. A few months ago if you would've asked me if Giovanni Castiglione had a regret bone in his body, I would laughed in your face. But now, looking inside those blue eyes of his, I saw the regret in those eyes of his. I saw it clearly.

"I am upset that you lied to me about my house and that you used it to threaten Eden if I ever returned to it." I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. "But the two of you could've just told me the truth because I wouldn't have returned to it anyways."

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