Every Mafia's Favorite Girl

Chapter 54: "Physical Assault"

Sofia stared at the phone.

Then at Aren’s completely unblinking face.

Then down at Manuel’s contact photo on the call screen.

For two years, she had buried the suffocating rage deep inside her chest, locking it away where no one could see.

Now?

The dam broke, and everything detonated like an erupting volcano. Without a single second of hesitation, she snatched the phone right out of Aren’s hand and literally screamed into the microphone.

"Listen very carefully, you filthy, shameless motherfucker! You are a gutless, spineless excuse for a man without a shred of dignity or the decency to face the woman you discarded like trash!"

Sofia didn’t even stop to catch her breath as she continued.

"You’re a pathetic, two-timing coward, and you’d better pray to whatever god you serve that you never cross my path again! If I catch even a glimpse of your face, I swear on the Marchetti name, I will tie you down, skin you alive inch by inch, and cut you into pieces so small that not even the Moretti scavengers will be able to find enough of you to bury! I will erase you from this city, you miserable whore-chasing dog!"

By the time Sofia finally ran out of breath, her chest was heaving violently. Years of bitterness had come pouring out in a single uninterrupted torrent, leaving her visibly shaking.

On the other end of the line, Manuel’s brain was completely fried.

Having just survived what amounted to a direct artillery strike on his eardrum, he was desperately struggling to compute how his ex-fiancée and Ariana Lombardi were somehow in the exact same room.

He stumbled, his slick composure completely evaporating into a pathetic stammer.

"So... Sofia? W... what are you—"

He never got to finish.

Sofia’s vision went completely red as she detonated all over again.

"You motherfucking man whore! I am going to rip your dick apart—"

Clack.

Manuel folded.

Rather than remain on the line for whatever horrors were about to follow, he slammed the end-call button and fled the mess, completely ghosting the conversation.

Sofia stood frozen in place, panting and drawing ragged breaths through clenched teeth. Her eyes remained fixed on the dark screen as though sheer hatred alone might somehow reach through the disconnected call and finish the job.

Meanwhile, the entire restaurant had gone scarily silent.

It was a ghost town vibe.

Most of the patrons had no idea who the Marchetti siblings were. The family maintained an exceptionally low public profile, and few civilians could have identified Eduardo’s children on sight.

Ariana Lombardi, however, was a different matter entirely. Every single person in the room was fully aware they were witnessing a nuclear-level scandal explode right in the middle of a casual Monday afternoon.

Phones were pulled out instantly.

People were frantically typing, paragraphs flying as they texted everyone they knew.

Rosalia noticed the shift in the room immediately. Recognizing the danger of a public relations nightmare, she stepped up to Sofia, her voice dropping into a low, urgent whisper.

"Sofia, we should leave. Father won’t be pleased if this becomes gossip for the entire city."

Jordan also realized that staying was a one-way ticket to disaster. He stepped closer to Aren, lowering his voice so the neighboring tables couldn’t eavesdrop.

"We should go. I’ll find us another restaurant."

Unfortunately, Sofia was nowhere near done. Sure, she had zero clue why Ariana Lombardi had just pulled the most unhinged stunt in human history, and yeah, screaming in Manuel’s face had felt incredibly therapeutic, but the fire she’d just unleashed was only burning hotter now.

Her lethal glare whipped from the phone back to Aren, who was still standing there like a statue, completely wrapped in a mask of unbothered calm.

Sofia aggressively shoved the phone back into Aren’s hands.

"You," Sofia hissed, practically chewing each word before spitting it out. "Don’t think for a single second that you’ve done me some act of charity and I’m suddenly going to forgive you. Whatever the torturous fuck I intended to do to Manuel, I intend to do to you ten times worse!"

Aren blinked.

The logic parameters were again failing to compute in her brain. Sofia’s emotional state remained extremely hostile despite the successful confrontation with the primary offender.

Aren’s thoughts shifted immediately into problem-solving mode.

’Intervention method failed.’

’Anger levels unchanged.’

’Alternative intervention required.’

’Escalation toward verbal and possibly physical aggression remains likely.’

Completely unfazed, she slipped the phone back into her jeans pocket and looked up at Sofia with the same detached composure a psychiatrist might offer an increasingly agitated patient.

"May I ask what could potentially ease your anger?" Aren asked seriously. "Would you like to try the verbal assault method? The way you just did to Mister Manuel?"

Sofia just stared at her, totally short-circuiting.

Unfortunately, in the middle of a fury years in the making, Sofia didn’t see a sincere offer to relieve stress. She heard mockery. Condescension. An insult so outrageous it bordered on cruelty.

Stepping sharply forward, Sofia jammed her finger inches from Aren’s face.

"You want to talk about ’verbal assault’? How about we talk about the fact that you’re a soulless, parasitic brat who thinks she can buy or fuck her way out of any consequence? You destroy everything you touch because you’re bored, and then you have the nerve to stand there looking at me with those vacant, pathetic eyes like you’re the one trying to help?"

Aren stood perfectly still, taking in the entire speech word for word, effectively recording the data.

When Sofia finally stopped speaking, Aren nodded sharply.

"Thank you for pointing out my mistakes, Miss Marchetti," she replied in the same calm tone. "I will review my previous lapses in moral judgment, work harder, and attempt to become a better person. Please continue."

Sofia froze.

Her jaw locked so tightly it trembled.

A chaotic wave of helpless frustration crashed through her chest.

She had completely run out of insults, her throat was bone dry, and yet absolutely nothing she said was landing. It felt less like arguing with another person and more like screaming at a concrete wall.

Driven by pure instinct, Sofia’s hand shot upward toward Aren. She wanted to slap that expression off Aren’s face — just once — just enough to crack that impossible calm. But right before she swung, another instinct slammed into her.

’No, no, wait.’

’Stop.’

’She’s still the heiress of a major House.’

’Father will lose his mind if I touch her.’

Aren caught the micro-hesitation instantly, reading the intent behind the raised hand perfectly.

’Oh... I see.’

’Physical assault.’

’Understood.’

Without a shred of hesitation, Aren took a sharp step forward. Then, to the horror of everyone watching, she tilted her head and pointed directly at her own cheek.

"Try striking from a forty-five-degree angle," she instructed, as though conducting a training seminar. "Aim for the soft tissue below the cheekbone rather than the jaw. The pain response is generally stronger while reducing the risk of injuring your hand. It should hurt considerably more." frёewebηovel.cѳm

The entire restaurant collectively stopped breathing.

For a heartbeat, absolute silence descended.

Jordan immediately went into panic mode.

"Oh, for the love of—"

Shifting Biscuit into one arm, he stepped directly into Aren’s space and seized her wrist before she could offer any further tactical advice.

"No, Ariana, what are you doing?! Absolutely not! We’re leaving! Right now."

Even Rosalia’s perfect mafia-princess composure cracked. For perhaps the first time in years, she found herself completely speechless.

Sofia, however, was visibly shaking with pure fury now.

"You... you bitch! You think I won’t slap you? You think I won’t kill you just because you’re the Lombardi heiress?!"

"No," Aren replied, eerily level. "In fact, I encourage you to."

She paused, head tilting slightly as she recalibrated.

"Although... perhaps a slap would not sufficiently alleviate your anger. Maybe a punch would be more effective."

She subtly shifted her weight, dropping her center of gravity into what she considered an optimal stance for absorbing a heavy kinetic blow.

"Please don’t worry about the aftermath," she added carefully. "My pain tolerance is quite high."

That was it.

Sofia hit the absolute limit of her human restraint. She lunged forward, and both Jordan and Rosalia realized with a jolt of horror that Sofia was actually going to do it.

Sofia’s hand whipped through the air, heading straight for Aren’s face.

A sharp gasp echoed through the restaurant.

In that exact fraction of a second, Rosalia — who was standing closer — reacted on pure adrenaline. She shot her arm out, catching Sofia’s wrist mid-air right before the impact could connect.

At the exact same moment, Jordan’s voice thundered across the room.

"NO, ARIANA! ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

With a hard yank, he pulled Aren sharply backward and threw his entire body over hers, fully prepared to take the hit himself.

"Jordan! What are you waiting for?!" Rosalia screamed, straining to hold back her furious sister. "Get her out of here! Now! I’m holding Sofia!"

Jordan didn’t need to be told twice.

"Sorry about this," he told Aren.

Before Aren could fully process his words, he scooped his free arm around her waist and hoisted her into the air as though she weighed nothing at all. freёwebnovel.com

With Biscuit tucked under one arm and Aren gripped firmly in the other, Jordan turned on his heel and marched straight for the exit, leaving the wreckage of the evening behind.

Aren blinked, startled as she was suddenly airborne. Dangling over Jordan’s shoulder, she watched as the restaurant receded behind them and the chaos recede.

Rosalia was using every ounce of her strength to restrain a screaming, thrashing Sofia, who was still aggressively lunging forward, desperate to launch herself after them.

But as the distance grew, Aren noticed something strange.

Amidst the blinding rage radiating from Sofia, a completely different expression flickered across Rosalia’s face as she watched them go... It was a look that bordered on a mix of pure horror and reluctant, baffled admiration.

Aren casually tapped Jordan’s back.

"But... but, Jordan, I haven’t finished apologizing to your sister."

Jordan didn’t even slow down.

"Doesn’t matter," he replied, softer than before. "You’ve apologized enough."

He carried her out just like that, stepping past the wide, stunned eyes of every single diner and waiter in the room.