My Cold Heart: Rejecting The Mafia Boss

Elena Vitiello POV

The rain started halfway to the estate. It wasn't a cleansing rain; it was a relentless, freezing drizzle that soaked through the heavy fabric of my dress and plastered my hair to my skull.

I didn't take a cab. I walked. I welcomed the burn in my muscles; I needed the physical exhaustion to numb the mental agony.

When I finally entered the penthouse, I was dripping wet. The marble foyer was silent and cold. I walked up the stairs, leaving dark, muddy footprints on the pristine white carpet.

I went straight to the master bedroom. I knew I was banned, but I didn't care. I needed dry clothes, and I needed answers.

The door stood ajar.

I pushed it open.

Dante was there. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. Sofia was in the bathroom, humming a soft tune. The steam from the shower billowed out into the cool room, carrying the sickeningly sweet scent of my favorite body wash.

Dante looked up. His eyes widened slightly when he saw me, taking in my shivering form. I looked like a drowned rat.

"You're home," he said. His voice was flat, utterly devoid of guilt. "Leo sent the files. Good. I assume now we have an understanding."

"Understanding?" I whispered.

I walked toward him, water pooling around my feet.

"You drugged me," I said, my voice trembling. "You let another man take photos of me naked."

"It was necessary," Dante said, standing up. He tossed his shirt onto the chair dismissively. "You were becoming a problem, Elena. You were emotional. Unpredictable. I needed leverage to ensure you didn't do something stupid that would hurt the Family."

I didn't think. I just moved.

My hand connected with his face. The sound was a sharp crack that echoed off the walls. My palm stung with the force of the impact.

Dante's head snapped to the side. He froze.

For a second, the only sound was the rain lashing against the window.

Then, Sofia screamed from the bathroom doorway.

She rushed out, wrapped in a towel. "Oh my god! Dante! She hit you!"

She threw herself between us, clutching Dante's arm as if I were the monster. "She's crazy! She's violent! My shoulder... she pushed me!"

She hadn't been anywhere near me. But it didn't matter.

Dante touched his cheek where a red mark was forming. He looked at me, and his eyes were no longer human. They were the eyes of the Consigliere.

"You dare?" he hissed.

He shoved me.

It wasn't a gentle push. It was a strike. I flew backward. My head slammed against the marble wall near the door.

Pain exploded in my skull. Black spots danced across my vision. I slid down to the floor, gasping for air.

Dante loomed over me. Sofia was smirking behind his back, adjusting her towel with feigned modesty.

"You forget who you are," Dante said, his voice low and dangerous. "You are nothing without me. You are a nurse's daughter I plucked from obscurity. And you just struck a made man."

He crouched down, grabbing my chin forcing me to look at him.

"If you ever touch me again, I will release those photos to every news outlet in the country. Your mother's memory will be tainted by your shame."

I stared at him. I could feel warm blood trickling down the back of my neck.

"Get out of my room," he spat.

I tried to stand, but the room spun violently.

"Wait," Sofia said. "She shouldn't just get to walk away, Dante. She disrespected you. She disrespected us."

Dante looked at Sofia, then back at me. He was still angry. The slap had bruised his ego more than his face.

"You're right," he said.

He pointed to the glass doors leading to the courtyard.

"Go outside, Elena."

"It's raining," I whispered.

"I know. Kneel in the courtyard. Stay there until I tell you to come in. Think about your place in this hierarchy."

He opened the glass door. The wind howled in, carrying the freezing spray.

I looked at him one last time. I looked for a trace of the man who had once bought me flowers, the man who had held my hand at my mother's funeral. He wasn't there.

I walked out into the storm.

I knelt on the hard cobblestones. The rain was freezing. It soaked me to the bone within seconds. I shivered violently, my teeth chattering uncontrollably.

Inside, through the glass, I saw Dante close the curtains. He was shutting me out. He was shutting out the guilt.

I knelt there for hours. My knees bled. My skin turned blue.

But inside, a fire was starting. It was small, fueled by the pieces of my broken heart.

I wasn't going to live like this. I wasn't going to be his prisoner, his punching bag, his leverage.

Tomorrow was Sofia's birthday party on the yacht. Everyone would be there.

It was the perfect stage.

I looked up at the dark sky and made a vow. Elena Russo would die tomorrow. And from her ashes, something else would rise.