He Chose His Son Over His Mafia Queen Chapter 09

He Chose His Son Over His Mafia Queen Chapter 09

I didn’t linger for another second, picking up the signed agreement and walking away.

I later heard that Matteo had gotten blindingly drunk that night and uncharacteristically dragged himself into a street brawl.

But none of that had anything to do with me anymore.

I had already walked miles ahead, while he seemed forever trapped in the past.

From that day on, I never met with Matteo in private again.

It wasn’t until I traveled to a business bidding event that our paths crossed once more.

The Ferraro family had taken a catastrophic hit, forcing him to personally work the room to salvage

whatever investments he could secure.

And as usual, he had that little shadow glued to his hip.

Marco hated being left with the assistants, constantly sneaking out to follow him around.

He used to be the pampered little prince of the Ferraro estate, showered with endless praise wherever he

went and whatever he did.

But those days were long gone.

“Whose kid is this? Get him out of here right now! This conference isn’t a playground for toddlers!”

Marco’s face crumbled in humiliation.

He burst into tears, crying out for his

papa.

The entire room turned to look, their scorching gazes landing squarely on Matteo, burning the tips of his

ears bright red.

Clueless to the tension, Marco opened his arms wide, begging for a hug.

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But this time, Matteo didn’t kneel down to scoop him up. Instead, he gently but firmly pushed the boy back.

“Why didn’t you stay with the assistant?” he demanded sternly.

“Papa, because I fell asleep just now, and I had a nightmare that you and Mommy both abandoned me. That’s why I hurried over…”

The corporate circle had already caught wind of the Ferraro family’s internal scandals.

Someone in the crowd scoffed, letting out a cruel laugh. “Give me a break, kid. Since when has your mother

ever given a damn about you?”

Marco froze, his sobbing intensifying into a frantic wail.

Other attendees in the hall grew visibly irritated.

“Can someone shut that kid up? Working is stressful enough without this constant screaming!”

“Exactly. Not everyone is going to cater to your child. Where’s the organizer? If they keep making a scene, kick them both out!”

Standing amidst the crowd, I watched the entire scene play out.

I clearly saw a profound sense of exhaustion settle into Matteo’s eyes, followed closely by a flash of sheer irritation.

He marched the crying child over to an empty corner of the hall.

He buckled the boy’s backpack securely around his shoulders, spun him around, and gave him a firm push toward the exit.

“Go find your mother.”

“I will set up a regular allowance to cover your living expenses, but beyond that, I have nothing left to give

you.”

Marco completely forgot to cry, his face a mask of absolute bewilderment.

“Papa?”

Matteo massaged his temples, letting out a heavy, defeated sigh.

“I know you were only following your mother’s instructions,” he paused, finally deciding to voice the

resentment that had been festering in his chest for months. “But if it weren’t for your existence, my ex-wife

and I would have never ended up like this.”

“Of course, you can choose to stay,” he added coldly. “But if you choose to follow me, you will never see your mother again.”

His gaze shifted slightly toward the edge of the lobby.

In a far corner of the room, a woman was anxiously peeking out from behind a pillar.

Sofia had caught wind of Matteo’s business trip and had been lurking there since early morning.

“Mommy!”

Marco’s eyes lit up instantly.

A six-year-old child will always instinctively gravitate toward his mother. He loved her unconditionally

from birth, despite how terribly she treated him.

He made his choice and ran toward his mother.

Matteo gave a terse pod. Fine. Suit yourself.”

Seeing the boy sprinting toward her, Sofia reacted as if she had seen a ghost, screaming at the top of her

lungs, “Are you stupid?! Go back to your father! What are you coming to me for?!”

“If he doesn’t care about you anymore, you’re nothing but a worthless burden to me!”

Infuriated, she shoved the boy away and whipped around to flee.

Marco desperately threw his arms around her leg.

“Mommy, please don’t abandon me! I eat very little, I swear! I just want to stay with you…”

Matteo coldly pulled his gaze away from the spectacle.

He turned around, his eyes locking directly onto mine.

I was leaning against the doorway, giving him a faint, polite nod.

Matteo stood paralyzed for a long moment.

Very quickly, the momentary spark of hope in his eyes was swallowed by an overwhelming bitterness.

He let out a hollow, self-deprecating laugh. “I’m sorry. I’ve given you another pathetic show to laugh at.”

“The mistakes I made in my youth… I guess I’ll never be able to fix them.”

I offered a casual smile, finding absolutely nothing to say.

My heart rate remained entirely steady, as if I were merely watching a cheap drama featuring absolute

strangers.

Yet, he kept staring at me, refusing to break eye contact.

Right at that moment, the announcer’s voice echoed through the PA system, declaring the Moretti family as the winning bidder.

“Don Moretti! Come on up!”

I arched an eyebrow, answering the call with a bright smile.

Behind me, Matteo took a frantic step forward, his voice desperate. “Freya.”

I paused and looked back, offering him one last, impeccably courteous smile.

“It’s Freya Moretti to you now, Mr. Ferraro. Learn to use my full name.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away.

The past was dead, and the future was entirely mine to claim.