The Moretti Family’s Useless Eighth Daughter Was Actually a Hidden Powerhouse Chapter 03

The Moretti Family’s Useless Eighth Daughter Was Actually a Hidden Powerhouse Chapter 03

My mother, Elena, let out a short cry.

She tried to maintain the elegance expected of the family’s donna, but her knees buckled, and she nearly collapsed against my father.

“Damian Falcone, what are you doing?”

Alessandro’s expression changed. He strode forward.

Damian only smiled, still perfectly composed.

“I already made my terms clear. Either you sign the asset-transfer agreement and, starting tomorrow, the Moretti family loses every legitimate business owned by Moretti Holdings. Or—”

He looked over all of us.

“Every member of your family leaves one hand here.”

He picked up the surgical blade and placed it on the table.

“Don’t worry. I had it sterilized. Your private medical team is across the street. If everyone moves quickly, this can still be handled.”

He said the cruelest thing in the gentlest possible voice.

Elio clenched his jaw and kept hammering at his keyboard.

“Don’t waste your time, Elio.”

Damian looked at him with something close to pity.

“Your backup satellite link was cut ten minutes ago. And that low-level code you’re so proud of? To my technical team, it’s barely better than a child’s doodle.”

Elio’s hands went completely still.

He stared at the red error messages flooding his screen, disbelief turning his eyes bright with tears.

That had been the final line of defense he wrote after three months of barely sleeping.

Now it had not lasted ten minutes.

“Damian.”

My father’s voice suddenly sounded ten years older.

He pushed himself upright against the table.

“I’m begging you. Business is business, and the underworld has rules too. Let my children go. I’ll take all the consequences myself.”

“Don Vittorio.”

Damian gave him an exasperated look.

“You make me sound like some unhinged madman who doesn’t know the rules.”

He tossed the blade back onto the cart.

It landed with a bright, hard click.

“You have five minutes.”

He glanced at the Richard Mille on his wrist.

“After five minutes, if you still haven’t signed, my people will decide for you.”

I stared at the blade and couldn’t help sighing.

Honestly, it wasn’t a very good blade.

In my previous life, my hand-to-hand training used custom high-carbon-steel tactical blades.

This kind of surgical blade was fine for soft tissue, but the moment it met bone, it would be far more likely to fold than they imagined.

I set down the console, stood, and started toward the cart to inspect the steel.

“Alessia.”

Matteo grabbed my shoulder.

His grip was strong, but his palm was slick with cold sweat.

“Be good. Stay put.”

His voice was soft, but it carried the quiet authority of the family’s consigliere.

He pushed me back onto the sofa.

They weren’t even going to give me a chance to fight back.

Because, in everyone’s eyes, I was a worthless heiress who might not even understand what was going on.

Damian’s gaze landed on me again.

He walked over slowly and looked down at me.

The hatred had vanished from his eyes. In its place was the amused curiosity reserved for a pretty, harmless, slightly stupid pet.

“Alessia, your brothers have protected you awfully well.”

He reached out, apparently meaning to pat my head.

“Don’t touch her.”

Alessandro and Enzo snapped the words at almost the exact same time.