Chapter 4: Kiss the knife

Every step she took down the marble corridor echoed with finality.

Valentina was not just going to confront Bellamy.

She was going to bury him—quietly, beautifully.

⸻

The war room was empty when she entered, just as she'd planned. At her request, Nina had dismissed the guards for "security training," and the cameras had mysteriously suffered a power glitch that would later be blamed on a faulty generator.

Bellamy entered moments later, his coat draped over one shoulder, unbothered by the silence that swallowed the room.

"You wanted to see me, Principessa?" he said, that slick, poisoned smile curling under his graying beard.

Valentina didn't rise from her chair.

She only looked at him—really looked at him—and let the weight of betrayal simmer beneath her skin.

"You were my father's most trusted man," she said softly.

Bellamy chuckled. "And I served him well."

"Then why betray me?"

Silence fell like a blade between them.

Bellamy didn't deny it. He just exhaled and stepped further into the room.

"You're not him, Valentina. You lead with emotion. You bleed for the wrong people."

"I bleed because I still have a heart," she said. "But don't confuse my heart for weakness.''

He moved closer, and for the first time, she saw it—that old-world arrogance. The assumption that her father's death meant the empire would rot under a woman's hand.

"You're not made for this world, girl," Bellamy said. "You were raised in silk, not smoke. I was trying to protect the Scarlatti name."

She stood.

And in one motion, smooth as smoke and just as suffocating, she drew the knife from her coat pocket and laid it flat on the table between them.

Bryanl's knife.

"This is the part," she said, "where I give you a chance to beg."

Bellamy didn't blink. "I won't."

She nodded once. "Then kiss the knife."

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"If you're loyal, as you claimed, then swear it again—blood to blade."

Bellamy hesitated.

And that was all the proof she needed.

⸻

By the time Nina entered, Bellamy's body lay slumped over the table, the knife buried in his chest.

"You're not supposed to kill your own consigliere without a council vote," Nina said, inspecting the blood.

"I just restructured the council," Valentina replied coldly.

Nina gave a rare, proud smile. "So what now?"

"We burn the body," Valentina said. "Make it look like he fled with intel. Let the Morettis wonder where his loyalty went."

"And what about Niko?"

Valentina paused. "He stays. For now."

⸻

The next morning, the estate buzzed with the news: Bellamy had disappeared.

Valentina played the part perfectly—feigned surprise, concern, and then absolute command.

In his absence, she named Nina as her new consigliere.

"Another woman in power," one of the elder capos muttered during the announcement.

Valentina smiled sweetly and replied, "If it bothers you, die sooner."

No one questioned her again.

⸻

But Bryan returned that night.

She found him in the garden, leaning against the fountain like a shadow waiting to be summoned.

"You killed Bellamy," he said.

She didn't deny it.

"He was going to kill me."

Bryan looked at her, long and slow. "And what do you think I'll do?"

Valentina stepped closer, the night wind tugging at her silk robe.

"If you were going to kill me," she said, voice low, "you would've done it already."

"Maybe I'm just waiting for you to let your guard down."

She reached up, fingers brushing the lapel of his coat. "Then you'll be waiting forever."

He caught her wrist, gently.

"Why do you trust me?"

"I don't," she whispered. "But I want to."

It was all the permission he needed.

His mouth found hers with a force that bordered on violent—months of tension, of warning and want, unraveling in a kiss that promised both salvation and ruin.

She pushed him against the stone wall, hands in his hair, teeth grazing his lip.

"You're poison," he muttered.

"And you're the glass I drink from," she said.

⸻

After, they sat in silence, the moonlight painting silver scars across their skin.

"Why are you really here?" she asked finally.

Bryan turned his face to her.

"To see if you'd survive."

"And?"

"You're not just surviving," he said.

"You're becoming something worse."

Valentina smiled faintly.

"Good."