They Came For My Will, Not Knowing Everything Was Mine Chapter 08

They Came For My Will, Not Knowing Everything Was Mine Chapter 08

Lorenzo froze. 

“When you came home the next day, I tried to tell you. But the first thing you said was blaming me for getting sick when Bianca wasn’t feeling well.” 

He remembered every detail of that day now. 

I’d asked him once: if Bianca and I were both in danger at the same time, who would he save first? 

He’d answered impatiently, “Why do you always compete with someone who’s sick?” 

After that, I didn’t speak for an entire day. He thought I was just sulking. 

Matilde, I’m sorry.” 

He reached out to touch me. I stepped aside. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

His hand hung in the air. 

I didn’t know you were pregnant. If I had, I would’ve come back.” 

I closed the file and pushed it back toward him. “Lorenzo, I gave you plenty of chances to choose me. You never took a single one.” 

His eyes went red. “I can make it up to you. We can have 

another baby—” 

I slapped him. 

My left hand stung from the impact. 

You don’t get to talk about the future.” 

I looked at him, my voice so calm it felt like it belonged to someone else. 

“That baby died three years ago. And the Matilde who would’ve given you everything–she died that day too.” 

I picked up my files and left. For a long time, there was no sound behind me. 

When I reached the door. I heard a muffled sob. 

Lorenzo sat alone in the empty conference room, his hands covering his face. 

But tears that come too late don’t save anyone. 

Lorenzo pulled up the full security footage from the cemetery 

To subdue me, he’d pretended to hold me, then tore open my sleeves and skirt and stripped the compact pistol I’d hidden in my garter. 

At a mafia negotiation table, there’s no such thing as chivalry. At the time, he hadn’t even thought the method 

was cruel. 

But when the footage played in full, he finally saw what he’d remembered as “controlling the situation” actually meant. 

I’d been forced to my knees in the mud. A gun was pressed into my ribs. 

Lorenzo grabbed my hand and bent my fingers back one by one. When the bone snapped, even the soldiers standing nearby–men used to violence–flinched. 

After the footage ended, Lorenzo didn’t move. 

A long time later, he asked, “Did it hurt?” 

No one answered. 

The question was absurd. 

I’d been right in front of him. My finger had been visibly deformed. Blood had dripped from my hand. 

But it wasn’t until today that he thought to ask if it hurt. 

Lorenzo told the Russo family council he’d take full responsibility. 

He sold his yacht, his collections, and two properties, and transferred the first repayment into the debt account. Then he had all of Bianca’s remaining belongings cleared out of the Russo estate. 

The photos of her on the walls came down, Her clothes and personal items were sent back to the Colombo house. 

Bianca came to confront him. 

“You promised you’d protect me!” 

Lorenzo looked at her, exhausted. “I protected you all these years because you kept saying you were weak and innocent. But you stole the eulogy Matilde prepared for her grandmother. You wore the gown that should’ve been hers and accepted everyone’s praise. And now you faked a pregnancy.” 

Bianca shook her head, crying. “I just loved you too much.” 

“You never loved me,” Lorenzo said, finally seeing her clearly. “You just enjoyed taking things from her.” 

He had the guards escort Bianca out and issued an order: she was banned from all Russo territory. If she came within a step of the Oyster Bay estate, the guards had permission to draw on her. 

That night, Lorenzo sent me the cemetery footage and a signed confession. 

The message said only: “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I just hope you won’t give up on treating your hand.” 

I didn’t reply. 

The doctor had already told me that even if the second 

surgery succeeded, my right hand would never fully recover. 

The damage he’d done would follow me for the rest of my life. 

A few days later, my parents came to my temporary apartment in Tribeca. They brought the wooden box my 

grandmother had left me. 

My mother’s eyes went red the second she saw me. “Matilde, you’ve lost weight.” 

She’d brought almond cookies–my favorite when I was little. Her tone was gentle, as if nothing had happened. 

My father set a property deed on the table. “The house next 

to the estate is yours. You and Bianca are both our daughters. We won’t favor one over the other.” 

I didn’t let them inside. “If you have something to say, say it here.” 

My mother’s smile stiffened. “We’re family. Do we really have to be so cold?” 

My father cut in impatiently. “Let’s put the past behind us. 

The Colombos‘ cash flow is gone. Extend the debt deadline by a year, and we’ll compensate you.” 

So that was the real reason they’d come. 

glanced at the deed. The property had already been mortgaged to a bank. They were offering me a worthless piece of paper in exchange for the debt I held. 

“You’ve finally realized that the daughter you used to sacrifice whenever it was convenient now has the power to make you pay. It’s too late for anything you do now.” 

I smiled and closed the door in their faces. 

Outside, my mother finally lost her temper. “Matilde, if you 

abandon your own parents, karma will come for you!” 

I answered through the door. “If karma’s real-” 

“It should come for you first.”