Chapter 9
The dining room was a portrait of shattered elegance. The bright, cinematic sunlight continued to pour through the windows, illuminating the bloodstains on the white linen, the shattered crystal, and the lifeless body of Silvio resting near the corner.
Matteo stood amidst the ruin, his posture perfectly relaxed. He turned his attention to his mother.
Helena had shrunk back into her dining chair, looking incredibly old and fragile. Her elaborate formal outfit felt like a cruel joke in the face of her absolute defeat. She stared at her son, finally recognizing that the boy she had raised was entirely gone, replaced by a ruthless, untouchable sovereign.
"What are you going to do to me?" Helena whispered, her voice barely audible.
Matteo walked over to the table and picked up a clean linen napkin. He slowly, meticulously wiped a drop of spilled wine from the face of his gold signet ring.
"I cannot execute my own mother, Helena," Matteo said, his voice quiet and heavily measured. "The optics would be unnecessarily complicated, and I refuse to carry the stigma of matricide."
Helena let out a long, shuddering breath of relief, her eyes fluttering closed. "Thank you. Oh, God, thank you, Matteo. I will leave the estate tonight. I will go to the villa in Sicily. I will never interfere again."
"You are not going to Sicily," Matteo corrected her gently.
Helena’s eyes snapped open. "What?"
"You are not going to Sicily. You are not going to New York. You are not going anywhere," Matteo explained, dropping the stained napkin onto the table. "You wanted to ensure the safety of this family, Mother. I am going to grant you that wish. You will remain on this estate for the rest of your natural life."
Helena blinked, confused by the leniency. "I don't understand."
"You will be restricted to the guest house in the northern quadrant," Matteo continued, his cold eyes locking onto hers. "There will be no internet access. There will be no telephone lines. You will not have visitors, and you will not be permitted to leave the perimeter of that specific building. Armed guards will be stationed at your door twenty-four hours a day."
Helena’s fair skin turned a sickly, translucent white as the reality of the sentence set in. "You are putting me in solitary confinement? Matteo, you can't! I will go mad!"
"You will have your books, and you will have your garden," Matteo said, entirely unmoved by her horror. "But you will never see my face again. And you will absolutely never be permitted to see or speak to Ava again. You are a ghost, Helena. You died today at this table."
"You are a monster," Helena wept, her hands covering her face.
"I am the monster you created," Matteo agreed smoothly.
He gestured to the two remaining bodyguards. "Escort my mother to the guest house. If she attempts to cross the boundary line, you have my authorization to break her legs."
May you like
"Yes, Boss," the guards responded, stepping forward and pulling the weeping, broken matriarch from her chair.
As Helena was led away, her sobs echoing faintly down the corridor, Matteo stood alone in the bright, sunlit room. The purge was complete. His throne was secure.
