I froze, my breath caught in my chest. For a moment, I couldn’t even comprehend the words. Then I saw the video playing on his phone. My brother was struggling, choking, fighting for air. The sight hurt my sight, breaking the last piece of my reason.
My only brother had been lying in a hospital bed for three long years. Matteo knew better than anyone why he was there. Three years ago, that night had been pure carnage. Out of everyone Matteo had brought with him, only my brother and I had survived.
They had tied both Matteo and my brother to a massive water tank, over ten meters high and forced me to make a choice. The one I didn’t pick would be lowered into the tank to drown. The one I chose would be saved.
Everyone assumed I would choose my brother. He was my blood, my last remaining family. But my shaking hand had pointed to Matteo. Keeping him alive was my only path forward.
I would never forget my brother’s expression in that moment. It was despair and helplessness, mixed with understanding. There hadn’t been a trace of blame in his eyes.
By the time our men finally arrived and smashed open the water tank, my brother had been underwater too long. His brain had been starved of oxygen, leaving him in a vegetative state.
Matteo had dragged the best doctor in the city to his bedside at gunpoint, forcing him to save my brother. The doctor said recovery was unlikely. But as long as my brother lived, there was hope. Matteo had sworn he would take care of him for the rest of his life.
But now, for another woman, Matteo was ready to destroy that fragile hope himself.
I drew my pistol, aimed it at his head and pulled the trigger. Matteo did not duck at all, so I forced myself to miss the shot. My hands were shaking so badly that the bullet grazed his cheek and left a red line. Matteo lifted his hand and wiped the blood away.
"Victoria, stop trembling if you really want to kill someone!" he shouted.
He then continued, "You don't have to be so upset. No need for you to hate me."
"Wrong acts have costs. You killed my child, so I killed your brother. That's even, isn't it?" he asked.
How could Matteo dare to talk about evenness? What right did he have to speak like that? He was the traitor. He had thrown me into hell.
Matteo leaned close and brushed the tears from my face with a kiss.
"Victoria, you should be reasonable," he whispered.