CHAPTER 147: CHAPTER-147. (REAL WILL).

Back then, I thought power meant control. Now, I wasn’t sure if it was control... or simply the ability to make others fear losing everything.

Matilda finally broke the silence.

"Kamal... stop this madness! You are humiliating yourself, our family for what? This...this criminal!" She cried out, her voice filled with both rage and disbelief.

My father’s hand twitched, and he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear, "If I hadn’t... he would’ve killed us all."

The words hit me like a slap.

A deep, heavy silence filled the room again.

I could hear the faint ticking of the antique clock on the far wall. I could even hear my own heartbeat, pounding in my ears.

Matteo finally stood up, slow and deliberate. The movement alone was enough to make everyone flinch.

He slipped his hands into his pockets and walked toward my father and brother. His shoes clicked softly against the marble, each step measured.

When he stopped in front of them, my father instinctively bowed lower. Gregory followed.

"Get up," Matteo said quietly.

They both hesitated...as if they were unsure if it was a command or a trap, until Matteo repeated, a bit more sharply, "I said, get up."

They obeyed instantly, standing but keeping their eyes lowered.

Matteo’s gaze flickered briefly toward me and then returned to my father.

"Get up," he said again in his commanding tone, leaving no room for defiance.

My father and brother scrambled to their feet. Though they stood up but they kept their heads low.

Their movements were stiff and awkward. The sound of their shoes brushing against the marble floor felt painfully loud in that suffocating silence.

Then Matteo tilted his head slightly, studying my father the way a hunter studies cornered prey. "Now, tell me why I am here," he said slowly.

The question hung in the air, deceptively simple, but something about the way he said it made my stomach twist.

My father froze.

His eyes widened slightly before darting toward Gregory, then toward my mother, who looked back at him with complete confusion.

My mother also didn’t understand; none of us did, but the look on my father’s face told me.

Kamal’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. "You...I..." He hesitated, his voice faltering. "...to speak to you about... the..."

Matteo didn’t move. His expression didn’t change, waiting for him to say it out loud.

"About?" he asked softly, deceptively calm.

The silence stretched unbearably. My father looked down, his lips trembling. He could not say it. Whatever he was supposed to confess, he just could not.

Matteo raised one brow, a flicker of impatience finally crossing his face.

He leaned back, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest of the couch, and said, "You see, Kamal, I am not a very patient man. You know that already."

My father did not look up. His hands were shaking.

Then Matteo exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath. It was too low for any of us to catch, but his tone alone made my blood run cold.

I did not even realize I was holding my breath until I saw him move.

He reached behind him in his casual, deliberate way, and before I could even register what was happening, his hand came back holding a freaking gun.

I gasped in horror as my heart skipped a beat.

"Matteo..." I barely got his name out before he stood, pointing the gun straight at my father.

The sound of Matilda’s scream pierced the air, raw and high. Gregory stumbled backward, his back hitting the other couch. My knees nearly gave out as my brain tried to process what I was seeing.

"Now, will you still refuse to speak up?" Matteo said, his voice dangerously smooth.

The muzzle of the gun gleamed under the chandelier’s light, aimed directly at my father’s chest.

My father raised both his hands instinctively, his voice breaking, "Please, Matteo...please! Don’t...don’t do anything stupid!"

"Stupid?" Matteo repeated with a bitter laugh, tilting his head. "No, no, no. You misunderstand me. You know, Kamal, can just kill you for speaking my name. I don’t need a reason to kill you."

"Matteo, please! Don’t...don’t do this! Whatever it is, we all can fix it; we will give you money, land, anything you want!" my mother cried, stepping forward, only for one of the guards to block her instantly.

Matteo didn’t even look at her.

"You?" he said dryly, lowering the gun just a fraction as his eyes flicked toward her. "The money which you are talking about does not even cover ten per cent of my total empire."

That made my mother freeze.

I stepped forward without thinking, my voice trembling, "Matteo, stop it! Please...Let’s end it now."

He turned his head toward me slowly. The look in his eyes made me falter.

"Elena..." he said softly. My breath hitched waiting for him to finish, but he did not. Instead, he raised his in my father’s direction.

"Kamal, this is your last chance. Tell them what you did, or you would be dead as hell..." he said, almost conversationally.

My father’s lips trembled. He was sweating. Even I could see beads of it rolling down his temples. His shoulders shook as he looked between Matteo and us, desperate, terrified.

"Please...I swear..."

"Wrong answer," Matteo interrupted sharply.

He cocked the gun. The metallic click echoed through the room.

Matilda screamed again, "No! Stop it, please! You can’t just barge into our house and..."

A sudden BANG! Silenced her.

The gun went off...but the bullet hit the marble floor just inches from my father’s foot.

The explosion of sound made my ears ring. Smoke curled up from the shattered tile.

Matilda shrieked and stumbled backward, covering her mouth with both hands.

Gregory cursed under his breath, his face pale as chalk. I felt my legs tremble so hard I had to clutch the edge of the couch just to stay upright.

Matteo didn’t even flinch.

He looked calm. Too calm. Like the shot was just another line in his script.

He twirled the gun lazily in his fingers, his tone sharp but quiet. "Now, that was me being polite. Now speak."

My father fell to his knees again, tears brimming in his eyes. "Please! Please don’t shoot! I will tell you everything...just please, don’t hurt me!"

Matilda cried, her voice trembling as she reached toward Matteo, "He’s old! He’s scared! Please.."

"Scared?" Matteo cut her off, chuckling darkly. "He should have been scared before he made me repeat twice."

His voice was low, but every word carried enough venom to silence even the guards standing behind him.

My father dropped his gaze, trembling so hard his knees visibly shook.

The gun was still pointed at him in a steady, merciless, unblinking way similar to the man holding it.

"Matteo... please. Whatever it is... I will fix it, I swear to you..." my father said again, his tone cracking.

"Fix? Tell me, Kamal, how do you fix something that was never yours to break in the first place?" Matteo echoed softly, almost amused.

My father’s eyes widened slightly. His lips parted, but no words came out. His hands trembled.

That small reaction...that subtle panic was enough to confirm what Matteo already knew.

Matteo sighed, almost theatrically, and tilted his head as if disappointed in a misbehaving child. "You see, Kamal... that’s your problem. You don’t understand limits. Now, do you?"

He took a step forward. My heartbeat pounded louder with each movement he made.

"Maybe I should remind you," Matteo said, his tone dropping.

He nodded once as one of his lawyers stepped forward, holding a leather folder. He handed it to Matteo silently, then retreated to his spot.

Matteo flipped the folder open, scanning the papers for a moment before looking back at my father. His voice turned razor-sharp.

"Do you recognize this?" He asked, his voice dropping as he flashed the paper to him.

Something flashed in his eyes, yet he hesitated to speak. Then, very slowly, he nodded.

Matteo’s smile was humorless. "You should. It’s the will your father wrote...the real one. The one who named Elena and Gregory as his heirs."

My mother gasped; on the other hand, Gregory blinked rapidly in confusion.

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I didn’t even know what to say in that moment. Should I confront my family for hiding the fact, or should I console them in their situation?

Matteo’s words sank like stones into the air, heavy and undeniable.

My father opened his mouth, "That will was..."

"Fake?" Matteo interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Kamal. Your version was fake. This..." he lifted the folder slightly, "...this is the original. The one you buried when you forged another document in your favor. You took everything, didn’t you? Even what wasn’t yours."

My mother’s hand flew to her mouth. "Kamal...?"

Her voice was shaking, horrified.

He didn’t look at her.

He didn’t look at anyone. His whole body sagged as if something inside him finally snapped.

"I... I did what I had to...," Kamal whispered.

Matteo let out a quiet laugh.

It was not amused, but sharp and mocking. "You had to? You mean, you wanted to. You wanted all of it. All the properties, the shares, the estate. Everything your father meant for your daughter, you signed into your own name. Am I wrong?"