Every Mafia's Favorite Girl

Chapter 37: "Anyone Here Volunteer?"

A cold silence swept through the reception hall.

Several guests stared openly, while a few mouths literally fell open.

Chiara and Corinna wore almost identical expressions now, though each tried to preserve a different version of grace.

Chiara’s face remained controlled, but her lips trembled faintly beneath the perfection of her makeup.

Corinna, still sprawled on the marble floor, looked on the verge of both humiliation and outrage.

Before either sister could answer, Aren leaned slightly closer toward Corinna’s body. One finger pointed calmly toward the bruising already darkening beneath Corinna’s skin.

"The impact pattern is incorrect," Aren explained. "As are the scuff marks on your heels."

She gestured toward Corinna’s shoes.

"If I had shoved you from above, the trauma would be distributed across opposite sides of the body due to rotational force."

People stared at her blankly.

Aren continued anyway.

"The angle of descent was also self-initiated."

Then, to everyone’s growing horror, she stepped onto the staircase and demonstrated it.

Step by step.

Like an investigator reconstructing a crime scene.

"The shoulder impacted first," Aren said, carefully indicating the marble edge. "Then the body rolled voluntarily to maintain momentum."

She tilted herself slightly against the marble step, demonstrating the exact trajectory of the roll with eerie patience.

"You also protected your face during descent," she added. "Instinctive self-preservation."

By the time she finished, the reception hall had gone completely silent.

Photographers had stopped taking pictures.

Reporters had stopped writing.

Even the hotel staff stood frozen where they were.

Corinna’s face had gone pale beneath layers of expensive makeup.

Suddenly,

She screamed.

"SHE’S LYING!"

One trembling finger jabbed straight toward Aren’s face.

"That bitch is lying! She’s completely insane! She’s insane enough to push me! Someone arrest her!"

Aren stood quietly for a moment, brow furrowing in deep thought.

Then, she looked around the reception hall with a polite smile.

"Since Lady Corinna insists," she said gently, "may I ask whether anyone here would volunteer for a demonstration?"

Nobody answered her.

Not a single person moved.

The crowd stared at Aren as though something deeply dangerous had finally revealed its true nature before their eyes.

At the back of the room, Caio wore the most complicated expression of all.

Something dangerously close to awe flickered behind his eyes, and something darker.

Something almost reverent.

Then, he moved.

Fast.

Cutting directly through the crowd and straight toward Aren.

Sartori men immediately closed in behind him, falling into step behind their boss. Their tall frames formed a moving wall around both Caio and Aren, blocking the cameras from view as they advanced.

Leo stepped toward the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced firmly, "that’s enough excitement for one afternoon. Lady Ariana will now be taking her leave."

Aren blinked in surprise the moment she saw Caio emerge through the crowd. The cold detachment vanished instantly from her expression, replaced by a warm smile.

"Ah, you’re here?" she said brightly. "I didn’t see you earlier."

Caio didn’t answer.

The moment he reached her, both hands came up to cup the sides of her face. He tilted her head gently from side to side, checking for injuries with quiet focus. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

When he found none, the tension in his shoulders loosened by the smallest fraction.

"You’re not hurt?" he asked quietly.

"I’m alright," Aren assured him. "Were you invited to this luncheon too? I heard the food is going to be very nice."

Caio shot her a look of pure disapproval.

"No."

His hand slid firmly around her wrist.

"We’re leaving."

His voice softened.

"I’ll get you better food than this."

Without another word, he pulled her away from the reception hall before hundreds of stunned eyes.

At that exact moment, Chiara somehow managed to recover her composure.

Seeing Caio’s hand wrapped tightly around Ariana’s wrist made something poisonous twist violently inside her chest.

She had already lost two battles today.

She refused to lose the rest of her carefully polished image alongside it.

Immediately, Chiara straightened her spine and gathered every ounce of cultivated heiress elegance she possessed, turning toward the crowd.

"Everyone, please forgive this terrible incident," she announced smoothly. "We cannot allow rude people to interrupt our purposeful gathering today. The luncheon shall continue shortly."

The guests seemed to snap out of their daze all at once.

Hotel staff resumed moving.

Voices slowly returned.

At the center of the marble floor, Corinna was still sprawled in pain while attendants hovered around her helplessly.

"Chiara!" Corinna called weakly, reaching toward Chiara. "I need the hospital! Get me an ambulance!"

Chiara approached her injured sister with a perfectly concerned expression painted across her face. The moment she leaned down close enough that no one else could hear, her voice turned chillingly cold.

"Didn’t you hear what that bitch said?" she muttered under her breath. "You broke no legs. Should you actually break one, I might get you an ambulance. Right now, you look like you’d survive perfectly fine with the hotel first aid kit."

Corinna’s entire face collapsed with horror. Pain, humiliation, and fury detonated together inside her chest.

"Hey! Chiara Leone!" she hissed through clenched teeth, careful not to let nearby staff overhear. "Don’t you dare treat me like that! What about the bag?"

Chiara let out a harsh huff, almost a scoff.

"Did you even get the job done, hm?"

Corinna froze.

Realization hit her with dizzying clarity: Chiara had no intention of honoring the bag promise.

"You can’t do this to me!" Corinna snapped bitterly. "I’ll tell Mother and Father!"

Chiara flipped her hair coldly over one shoulder.

"Go ahead," she replied without emotion. "I’ll gladly sit through them chewing your head off for failing to pull off a simple stunt properly."

Then, she turned sharply on her heel and walked away, leaving her younger sister trembling with rage and pain as hotel staff carefully lifted her from the floor.

In a few rapid clicks of her heels, Chiara stormed toward Lucilla Bellini and the surrounding camera crews.

"Delete everything," Chiara demanded. "Every single thing you recorded today."

Lucilla now looked thoroughly entertained, like a woman who had suddenly realized she held the stronger hand. She folded her arms neatly and regarded Chiara with challenge glinting in her eyes.

"Oh?" she mused lazily. "And if I won’t?"

Chiara stepped closer immediately, close enough that every threatening syllable fell only for Lucilla’s ears.

"I’ll either sue you," Chiara whispered venomously, "or have the only heiress of House Bellini transported onto the next Leone shipment. Either in one large crate or in multiple pieces."

Lucilla laughed instantly, genuinely amused.

"I bet you would."

One hand flicking dismissively.

"All right then. Nothing recorded here today will ever become public, as you wish."

"It better," Chiara muttered irritably.

She gave Lucilla one final razor-sharp look before her face smoothed seamlessly back into the elegant mask of the perfect luncheon hostess. Then she turned away to gather the attention of the remaining guests, continuing the luncheon as though nothing catastrophic had happened at all.

Lucilla watched her leave, her eyes growing darker by the second with pure, unadulterated contempt.

Then she turned toward the crew behind her.

"All right, you heard our lovely host lady," she announced smoothly. "Every scrap of paper. Every piece of footage. Burn it, delete it, erase it. I don’t care how you do it. This luncheon never happened."

The entire crew looked miserable, if not utterly devastated.

Every single one of them knew they had just captured the kind of scandal capable of dominating Borgata’s news cycle for weeks.

Lucilla spotted the disappointment instantly. Playing the role of the endlessly understanding media queen, she smiled warmly.

"Well now," she sighed dramatically, "we’re all disappointed over losing such a delicious story, aren’t we? So am I."

She snapped her fingers dramatically.

"But I have an even better idea."

The crew exchanged glances immediately, already guessing the possibilities.

One of Lucilla’s closest reporters stepped forward carefully.

"Lady Lucilla," he asked, lowering his voice, "what’s the assignment?"

Lucilla gestured for them to lean closer, her own voice lowering conspiratorially.

"Ariana Lombardi," she said softly, "and her revolutionary rebrand."

One reporter frowned.

"Um... are we promoting her now?" freёweɓnovel.com

Another looked confused.

"I don’t quite understand," he admitted. "What exactly are we supposed to do?"

Lucilla chuckled warmly.

"I want everything," she said. "Every old story you can dig up on Ariana Lombardi. Overdose photographs. Footage from her drug parties. Contact every lover she’s ever had. Current ones. Former ones."

Her smile widened slowly.

"And if there’s a sex tape somewhere? I want that too."

She folded her hands neatly before her.

"So start digging."