COLD TRAP

MATTEO

When you find yourself drowning in your own mistakes, when the gut wrenching nightmares don’t leave you alone, when all you’ve done is struggle to remain mentally sane, the weight of your trauma at some point swallows you up until you loose touch with everything.

That was what happened two weeks ago when I woke up from a terrible nightmare and sent my wife packing I woke up from the same nightmare that has always plagued me, only this time, it wasn’t just Bianca that I’d killed. I ripped Mirabella’s heart out of her in my dream and when I finally woke up, I found that I’d already done some damage to her physically.

I panicked and had to tell myself the truth, the truth that I was a danger to her.

I sent her away only to protect her from my monsters and I regret it.

Her fragrance still lingers in the part of the mansion where she stayed, I still think about how she touched herself in my office while calling out my name, how I buried my face into her beautiful, heavenly cunt. She’s my undoing and she’s my chance at life; the reason I’m still alive this day.

I sometimes run my fingers over my almost healed stitches and think about what would have happened to me if she wasn’t here the day I got shot. I owe her my life as much as I hate to admit it.

A knock is heard on the door and I immediately put away the important documents I have in hand. “Come.” My voice bellows. One of my men walks in and informs me that my father has returned and is waiting to have a meeting with me in his office. A meeting I presume is about Mirabella’s absence. That old man will not leave me alone,

I groan frustratedly as I make myself available for my father’s scrutiny. When I walk into his office, he forcefully throws the glass cup he has in hand my way and I dodge it with wide eyes.

“Come here boy!” He commands and I discreetly roll my eyes. The old fu**r still thinks of me a boy. His little boy. “Where the f**k is your wife?” He looks unamused and that’s a look he takes up whenever my wife is the topic of discussion.

From the day I realized my wife’s true identity, I’ve kept my father up to date but it still surprises me how he’s not upset with her in any way despite her lies and deception. I sometimes feel that my father desperately wants her around me and I wonder why.

“I sent her home.” I answer in a clipped voice.

“Why?”

“You know why father and I’d appreciate it if you refrained from interfering in my business especially when it’s about my wife.”

Father chuckles dryly and just like the wind, I fail to see him move towards me. In one swift move, his fist collides with my nose and I stumble. I look into his eyes and scoff at his readiness. “I guess we’re doing this,” I mumble under my breath and charge at him.

We thrash each other as we hash out whatever our differences seem to be. It’s not a regular thing but this is why my relationship with my t until we’re at ease with each other, that’s how father still holds water; the fact that we fight and curse each other out as much as we want we’ve managed to maintain a good relationship.

By the time our fight comes to an end, we agree upon going to bring Mirabella back but I tell him to give me a few days so that I’m able to draft a new prenuptial agreement and of course get my divorce papers ready.

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12:36 Fri, 21 Jun b

In many ways i want to thank my father for helping out with this because I truly was conflicted or probably too proud to ever tell anyone that I want my wife back when it was I who made sure she left the house,

Three days easily passed and today, I’m seated here in the Marcelo’s mansion with my father and a few of his trusted men while we drill answers out of the f**r.

Although I must say how disinterested I am in whatever his reasons are for lying to us because I know the f**r too well to know that whatever comes out of his mouth is a total lie. The reason behind his actioris is something I’d have to figure out myself.

The only thing I desperately desire now is to finally see my wife in all her glory; just as she is.

Just in cue, she and her twin begin descending the stairs and those unique irises of hers bore into mine.

I blink a few times at how unbelievably beautiful she is but a frown takes over my features when I discover the lifelessness in her eyes. She looks drained and beat up. Fuck

Something fishy is happening under this roof and I know it for certain.

After much back and forth between my father and his conniving consigliere, Mirabella finally signs the divorce papers that separates Annabella Marcelo from me and signs the prenuptial agreement that joins her-Mirabella-to me.

One thing that surprises me is how she’s willingly signing the papers without even so much as glancing at a sentence. As though she’s ecstatic about leaving the house.

The drive back to the Denaro’s estate goes smoothly, well not until I take notice of Mirabella trying to hold back her tears. I instinctively ask the driver to clear the car from the road and give us the privacy I’m guessing she needs. Not even seconds after and her arms wrap around me as a sob breaks through her.

My body stills at the contact but I don’t push her away nor do I return her hug. I’m usually uncomfortable with physical contact but i somehow allow it when it’s her.

“Thank you so much, Matteo,” her body shakes as a sob vibrates through her. “You have no idea what you did back there, if you hadn’t come,

I’d-1”

She gulps down harshly in realization that she was just about to spill something of great impact. I stare at her with thinned lips as her eyeballs move rapidly.

“You’d what?” My voice is thick with rage and curiosity because a part of me believes that something incredibly disturbing happened to my wife under her father’s root

“N-nothing. Sorry about that, I’ve just been out of it lately.” She rushes her excuse, retrieving her body from mine and I stare at her knowingly for a few minutes before calling my driver back in.

The moment we walk into the mansion, my mum and Julia engulf Mirabella in a hug as they begin making acquaintance with her; the real

her.

I haven

no choice but to excuse them.

I walk upstairs straight into the bathroom where I would have an ice cold shower. All the time I spent having my bath, the only thing playing on my mind was the conversation I had with Mirabella in the car. What would’ve happened if I didn’t get to her house the time I did? The

question plays relentlessly in my mind.

But my answer is immediate.

Mirabella walks into the bathroom and without noting my presence, she strips her clothes and I suck in a breath at the atrocity that catches my sight. The rage inside me knows no bounds and the monster in me is let loose when I find my wife’s body all bruised up.

She’s too engrossed in crying that she doesn’t note my presence behind her until my fingers graze her skin. I hold her stare through the mirror and my eyes transform into something dangerous. The monster on the inside surfacing

“Who did this to you?” My voice comes in a deadly monotone. Mirabella gulps but she doesn’t say a word, instead she holds my stare through. the mirror as her tears uncontrollably slide down her beautiful face.

Regret flashes my eyes and I curse myself out for sending her away. If I didn’t do that, maybe, just maybe she wouldn’t be in this state.

“Who the f**k did this to you?” My eyes scan every inch of her and **k! They even branded her? Then I know my answer because there’s only one known person who still brands people as a torture measure in recent times.

Marcelo.

That f**r.

“Tell me one thing, Mirabella,” I keep my voice mild just so I don’t scare her too much. “In the two weeks that you stayed in your father’s house, did you go anywhere else?” She shakes her head “no” and gives me the answer I seek even without saying anything.

“That **er!” I growl and as I make my way to storm out the bathroom, Mirabella grips my wrist to stop me.

Through her sniffles, she asks, “why do you care? You’ve done worse to me.” I mentally cringe at her statement and my gaze softens.

“Those

were different times, plus, you’re my wife and no one, absolutely no one has the right to put hands on you, not even y

With that, I push her hand away from my wrist and storm out.

your father.

Three days ago, I found out that my wife’s father has been her abuser. He’s been the reason my wife involuntarily braces herself for the worst and the fact that he never crossed my mind as the culprit goes a long way to show his excellence in deceiving people.

1 patiently waited three days because first, I had to put some things in order, second, I had to calm down so that I don’t kill him in a fit of rage and cause a war, seeing that he’s consigliere. He’s almost as powerful

cont

Third, I was waiting the boys’s return which is the actual reason I haven’t rained terror on that f**r. Well now, the wait is over because my eager brothers are here and ready to get it on with.

When I say here, I mean we’re in Marcelo’s mansion after we’ve very much taken out every single soldier that dared to stop us from gaining access into the house.

I’m standing in the large living area of Marcelo’s mansion with the boys as we wait for the almighty consigliere to grace us with his presence and he does. He descends the stairs with wide eyes and a pale face and I know for certain I’ve taken him by surprise.

Five of his soldiers surround him like a wall built around him. I chuckle humorlessly at the absurdness of that. “Matteo?” He speaks my name in a slight whisper.

12:36 Fri, 21 Jun b

“Don!” Al

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“Don!” Alessio corrects in a roar, “You will address him as Don because just in case you haven’t noticed, this is in no way a friendly visit.”

Marcelo gulps harshly. One thing about the boys is their unpredictability. You never see them coming until they’ve hit you fair and square, leaving you extremely vulnerable. They’re like ghosts, especially Alessio and Pablo.

Speaking of Pablo, in the midst of our banter with Marcelo, he’s successfully made it to his corner without anyone’s notice, and is now snapping the neck of the second soldiers.

I wonder how he does that even in his beastly height and body.

By the time Marcelo is able to note Pablo’s presence behind him, Pablo’s fist has already collided with his temple, knocking him flat out.

Dean and Maxwell take their time having fun with the remaining soldiers while we drag Marcelo down to his basement.

Marcelo wakes up in a few minutes and I don’t wait a second before asking, “exactly why did you put hands on my wife?”

“Did she tell you that?” He asks amusingly and I ram my fist into his face fair and square, over and over and over until I’m certain he’s become

dizzy.

“You’ll not kill me, I’m consigliere.” He whispers amidst his whimpering.

“You’re consigliere? You think anyone would care about a consigliere who puts his disgusting hands on the wife of the Don?”

“She’s my daughter!” He hollers, “she’s my daughter and I have every right to her as much as you do. And you have no proof whatsoever that I did what you accuse me of.”

He’s insane but the fear in his eyes is all the boost of ego i need. He knows how unpredictable and impulsive I can be and he’s praying to all his ancestors that today isn’t one of those days when I loose my mind.

“Don’t worry your silly head, father in-law, I won’t kill you but I can’t let you off that easy. Now what do we do about that, hmm?” I crouch down so that I’m on the same level as him and grasp the back of his neck. “Any ideas, father in-law? Right…” My laughter is hysteria and Marcelo watches me with uncertainty.

Pablo brings a table forward and I place Marcelo’s right palm flat on the surface, he’s struggling, begging like a b***h but I only tut in amusement. I continue chanting. “don’t put your hands on my wife ever again,” as I cut off his middle, index and ring finger. Leaving only his thumb and pinky.

He screams so loud, crashing to the ground with a loud thud and louder wailing. His body is shaking as he glares daggers at me, causing another laughter to bubble out of me. The boys join me in laughing this time and I’m left to wonder how embarrassed Marcelo might feel on the inside.

Before Marcelo is able to register the coming events, I already have the hot iron that has my massive c**k carved into it pressed against the skin of his chest until I’ve branded him.

I patiently wait for him to be over and done with screaming before saying, “you branded my wife? A wife of a Don branded by her own father? Well, you wanted her to be a s**e to you and your name now you’re a *e to my c**k.”I chuckle. “My massive c**k might I add.” The boys laugh as loud as they can.

“You’ll look at yourself in the mirror everyday and know whom you belong to. F**r.” I grit whilst I and the boys make our way out.

His voice stops me.

12:36 Fri, 21 Junt

“Don” Alessio corrects in a roar,

“You will address him as Don because just in case you haven’t noticed, this is in no way a friendly visit.

Marcelo gulps harshly. One thing about the boys is their unpredictability. You never see them coming until they’ve hit you fair and square, leaving you extremely vulnerable. They’re like ghosts, especially Alessio and Pablo.

Speaking of Pablo, in the midst of our banter with Marcelo, he’s successfully made it to his comer without anyone’s notice, and is now snapping the neck of the second soldiers.

I wonder how he does that even in his beastly height and body.

By the time Marcelo is able to note Pablo’s presence behind him, Pablo’s fist has already collided with his temple, knocking him flat out.

Dean and Maxwell take their time having fun with the remaining soldiers while we drag Marcelo down to his basement.

Marcelo wakes up in a few minutes and I don’t wait a second before asking, “exactly why did you put hands on

my wife?”

“Did she tell you that?” He asks amusingly and I ram my fist into his face fair and square, over and over and over until I’m certain he’s become

dizzy.

“You’ll not kill me, I’m consigliere.” He whispers amidst his whimpering.

“You’re consigliere? You think anyone would care about a consigliere who puts his disgusting hands on the wife of the Don?”

“She’s my daughter!” He hollers, “she’s my daughter and I have every right to her as much as you do. And you have no proof whatsoever that I did what you accuse me of”

He’s insane but the fear in his eyes is all the boost of ego I need. He knows how unpredictable and impulsive I can be and he’s praying to all his ancestors that today isn’t one of those days when I loose my mind.

“Don’t worry your silly head, father in-law, I won’t kill you but I can’t let you off that easy. Now what do we do about that, hmm?” I crouch down so that I’m on the same level as him and grasp the back of his neck. “Any ideas, father in-law? Right…” My laughter is hysteria and Marcelo watches me with uncertainty.

Pablo brings a table forward and I place Marcelo’s right palm flat on the surface, he’s struggling, begging like a b**h but I only tutin amusement. I continue chanting “don’t put your hands on my wife ever again,” as I cut off his middle, index and ring finger. Leaving only his thumb and pinky.

He screams so loud, crashing to the ground with a loud thud and louder wailing. His body is shaking as he glares daggers at me, causing another laughter to bubble out of me. The boys join me in laughing this time and I’m left to wonder how embarrassed Marcelo might feel on the inside.This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

Before Marcelo is able to register the coming events, I already have the hot iron that has my massive **k carved into it pressed against the skin of his chest until I’ve branded him.

I patiently wait for him to be over and done with screaming before saying, “you branded my wife? A wife of a Don branded by her own father? Well, you wanted her to be a s**e to you and your name now you’re a s**e to my c*k.” I chuckle. “My massive c**k might I add.” The boys laugh as loud as they can.

“You’ll look at yourself in the mirror everyday and know whom you belong to. F**r.” I grit whilst I and the boys make our way out.

His voice stops me.

“You cannot at all blame me! You and I both know who taught me the things I know!” He laughs like a maniac, “Didn’t the great Denaro himself do the same to you? Or do I need to remind you of the many things your grandfather made you do?”

My body tenses and all the veins in my head pops out. The boys go to charge at him but I stop them, letting them know that he’s trying to get a reaction out of us. “Of course my grandfather wasn’t up to any good, but where is he today?” I turn around and lock eyes with him. “Need remind you who put him six feet under? Now, don’t push me any further, Marcelo.”

I storm out of the mansion enraged.

That reminder from Marcelo alone has done more damage to me than I actually expected. And even though I hurt his ego and his body, I feel unfulfilled because he’s succeeded at making me feel useless and worthless.

He’s reminded me of my dreadful past.