Chapter 34 Letta

I didn’t wait for anyone to tell me to leave. I didn’t need to. The humiliation burned hot enough to push me out the front door on my own. My cheek still stung from that slap. That woman, that nobody, had slapped me.

Me. Violetta Hale.

The one who had been by Salvatore’s side for years. The one everyone assumed would eventually become Mrs. Ricci. The one who had been loyal, present, supportive, everything a mafia wife was supposed to be. And he let her hit me. I stormed down the steps, heels clicking hard against the stone. I didn’t care where I was going. I just needed to get away from that house before I screamed.

“Letta!” Roc’s voice boomed behind me.

Of course he followed. He always did. But not to comfort me. Not tonight.

He caught up fast, grabbing my elbow, not gently. “What the hell was that?”

I yanked my arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

“Oh, I’ll do more than touch you,” he snapped. “I’ll drag you to the car if I have to. You embarrassed me. You embarrassed Dad. And you disrespected Salvatore in his own house.”

I spun on him. “He disrespected me! He let that woman...”

“That woman is his wife,” Roc cut in sharply. “And Gabe is his son.”

I clenched my jaw. “She tricked him. She trapped him. She...”

“Stop.” Roc stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “You need to hear this. You’ve always been like a little sister to him. Always. He’s told you that a hundred times.”

“He didn’t mean it,” I hissed. “He took me to galas. He let people think...”

“He took you to galas so other families wouldn’t shove their daughters at him,” Roc said. “You know that. You agreed to it.”

“That was before her,” I spat.

Roc’s eyes narrowed. “Letta… he never wanted you.”

The words hit harder than the slap.

I swallowed, throat tight. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know enough,” he said. “And I know Dad is waiting at home. I texted him. Told him you messed up. Bad.”

My stomach dropped. “You told Dad?”

“Yeah,” Roc said. “Because he needs to talk some sense into you before you ruin your life.”

I glared at him, but he didn’t flinch.

He pointed toward the driveway. “Get in my car. Or drive yourself. I don’t care. But you’re going home. Now.”

I looked back at the house, at the warm lights glowing through the windows, at the sound of laughter drifting out, at the life that should have been mine. That woman and her bastard son didn’t belong there.

I did.

I lifted my chin. “Fine. I’ll drive myself.”

Roc didn’t argue. He just watched me walk to my car, jaw tight, disappointment written all over his face. But I didn’t care. Let them think I was done. Let them think I was defeated. Because I wasn’t. Not even close.And if Salvatore thought marrying Sara made her untouchable… He was wrong. Very, very wrong.

I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. The farther I got from Salvatore’s house, the louder the thoughts in my head became. They wouldn’t stop circling, clawing, screaming.

He let her slap me.

He defended her.

He defended that kid.

My stomach twisted. That little boy who suddenly got everything that should’ve been mine. The house. The attention. The name. The future. I pressed harder on the gas. Salvatore wasn’t thinking clearly. He was overwhelmed. Manipulated. That bitch had sunk her claws into him the moment she came back. Anyone could see that. Anyone with eyes. He didn’t mean what he said. He couldn’t have. He loved me. He always had. He just forgot. And I would remind him.

Roc’s headlights appeared behind me, staying close, watching me like I was a child who couldn’t be trusted. Dad was waiting at home. Waiting to lecture me. Waiting to tell me I’d embarrassed the family. But they didn’t understand. None of them understood. I wasn’t giving up. Not now. Not ever.