He Chose His Son Over His Mafia Queen Chapter 08

He Chose His Son Over His Mafia Queen Chapter 08

Matteo’s face instantly twisted into an expression of sheer humiliation.

Marco clung tightly to his leg, pouting with stubborn defiance.

“I am not a bastard! I am Papa’s treasure!”

Cassian looked down at him, his eyes dead and freezing.

“To my sister, you are nothing but a bastard.”

“As for whether you’re innocent or not, I couldn’t care less. All I care about is my sister’s happiness.”

The words struck a raw nerve, causing Matteo’s pupils to contract sharply, “I’m sorry,” he rasped.

Cassian wiped his face, forcing himself back into a calm composure.

“Matteo, my sister might have gone soft on you, but I never will.”

He let out a chilling smile.

Of course, Matteo hadn’t come here today just to see me.

He desperately needed to retain the manpower and capital that were currently draining out of the Ferraro organization. But Cassian tossed his golf club aside, showing absolutely no intention of backing down.

Matteo closed his eyes in exhaustion. “If you do this, you’ll lose all the money you previously invested.”

Cassian examined his fingernails with complete indifference.

“So what?”

“Burning nearly a billion dollars just to buy my sister a little peace of mind? Best money I’ve ever spent.”

The negotiation inevitably ended in a bitter deadlock.

Two months later, the Ferraro family was staring down the barrel of bankruptey and corporate

restructuring.

Yet, Matteo suddenly seemed to care nothing about the business.

As if his entire soul had been hollowed out, he stubbornly insisted on meeting me one last time.

I actually wanted to see what he looked like now, and besides, the divorce papers were just one final step away from being finalized.

Flanked by my bodyguards, I agreed to meet him at a venue strictly under the Moretti family’s control.

Dark circles shadowed his eyes, making it obvious he hadn’t slept a full night in ages.

“Freya,” he called out to me.

I waited for him to continue.

Instead of bringing up the divorce, he merely let out an incredibly weary sigh, his voice thick and hoarse.

“Freya, everything in the past was my fault.”

“Please come home. We can still have our own children…”

I took a slow sip of my coffee and asked placidly, “And what about the child who already exists?”

“In another three or five years, when his mother shows up on your doorstep again, what are you going to do

then?”

Matteo countered immediately, “I won’t let myself be manipulated again. I’ll send Marco away.”

I tilted my head, not believing a single word.

From the very second Marco came into existence, he and Sofia were permanently bound to his life.

“It’s too late, Matteo.”

I took a sip of my tea and stated flatly, “You had plenty of chances to handle this properly.”

“In the beginning, you said you were innocent, and I accepted that.”

“But you shouldn’t have kept Marco right by your side. You could have sent him abroad, or you could have paid his mother a lump sum to stay away forever.”

“Yet, out of all the choices, you picked the one that caused me the absolute maximum humiliation.”

He kept his head low, his eyelashes trembling violently.

“I failed you.”

“Freya, is there really no chance for us to start over?”

I leaned back against the leather cushions, my fingers mindlessly tracing the small urn pendant around my neck. “What do you think?”

Matteo could no longer find his voice.

I stood up and slid a manila folder across the table.

“Matteo, I refuse to spend the rest of my life trapped in endless arguments over this.”

“Let’s just sign the papers. Let’s not drag our remaining dignity through the mud.”

Matteo kept his gaze locked onto the floor.

A single tear slid down the bridge of his nose, and he quickly reached up to brush it away.

After a long, suffocating silence, I finally heard his choked reply: “Okay.”