Chapter 53 (Marco)


    "Absolutely not!" My father yells from his brown leather chair.


    Deno and I are seated on the two front chairs, studying the man who raised us from afar after my


    mother''s death.


    In thest hour, we have exined the situation to him. I told my father about Amariya, who has gone


    AWOL. Deno informed him about La, who''s now actively looking for Mischa. Andstly, a possible


    marriage between Aliyana and myself happening in the near future.


    And like we predicted; he wasn''t surprised Amariya was gone. He lost his shit about La, calling him


    an ungrateful brat and banged his hands on the table. And now, he has refused my marriage to


    Aliyana. My father is predictable and a hard-headed man.


    "We had an agreement when you came in this door 6-years-ago with the same story about that fucking


    woman you met. What was her name?"


    "Jane Doe," Deno answers, with a smile as I re at him. She was a hot woman, and I met her once.


    Once was all it took then to have me hooked even though I never did get the woman''s name.


    "I told you, give me a fucking grandson. Then you can marry whoever the fuck you want. Now you are


    what? 34, still no grandkids. I am an old man, I want fuckin'' grandkids. Deno is already plotting the


    death of his fucking wife. Leonardo is a sick fuck, and Anya, my precious daughter, is more dangerous


    than my toughest soldier. Also refusing to marry so she can run her fucking shops. What kind of kids


    have I ended up with?"


    "I''m sure Leonardo will give you grandkids, soon," Deno states in mocking sarcasm.


    "Mischa is part DeMarco and Catelli. Her blood is our blood. We''ll protect her like we promised." My


    father rubs his hand down his face.


    I should feel some remorse right now that he lost a son, and his other son wants to marry his ‘enemy''s’


    daughter, but I can''t find any for him.


    He started this shit with Sartini when he gave the man''s daughter away to prevent a war.


    Now, I am asking to marry Sartini''s other daughter to start one.


    "You say that like you know something we don''t," Deno voices, "Because right now, as we sit here with


    you old man, we know that La has got a fuckin'' number on Amariya''s head. She''s gone so deep in


    hiding I can''t even fuckin'' find her, and it alles down to Mischa. He wasn''t sure that his baby


    survived, but whoever is feeding him shit has made him fucking sure now."


    "What does Stephano say about it?" My father asks, bing alert.


    "Whether he wants to acknowledge it or not, Mischa is his only fuckin'' heir. I want her to have what is


    This is property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    due to her,” I tell him.


    "Gabriel can be head of the family when he''s older by all means, but byw, Mischa will inherit


    Stephano''s fuckin'' money, businesses, and his soldiers thates with it. La is not getting that,"


    Deno responds.


    "No, he can''t have so much power," My father says in a agreement.


    "So, if going to war is what we need to do, then so be it. The eye of assassins is a tempting reason for


    Marco to marry Cami, but Dante is wasting our time. Aliyana marrying Marco means he has ess


    to the Shadows, then that is what we need to do. The shadows are unrivalled and feared by everyone


    in the state."


    "But, she will still control them, not you. With Cami, the assassins answer to you." My father points


    out something I took into ount, and the reason I kept Aliyana as a second option.


    "Cami is heir to a bigger army, but not stronger. Dante is wasting time we don''t have. If La finds


    out Mischa is his daughter, and we''ve been hiding her, he will attack. He has a fuckload of allies and


    ruthless ones at that." Deno''s reasoning makes it all sound logical, but we both know that logic got fuck


    all to do with my sudden reason to marry Aliyana.


    My father studies Deno, and I see the flicker of pride in his gaze. He faces me, and I know the


    circumspection and fear he hides as he stares.


    I don''t mask the truth on my face, I let him see it.


    My father, for all his faults- foolishness and stupidity, is something he has zero of. It takes him a minute


    to see the truth my brother has attempted to cover since we walked in the door.


    Marcello Catelli is no fool, and I am his son. He frowns as his gaze hardens, and lips tighten.