My father's silence was enough. It was the kind of silence that did not just fill the room; it suffocated it.
You could feel it sinking into the air, heavy, sharp, making every breath hurt a little.
Matteo didn't move. He just stared at him, still holding the gun loosely in one hand, the other resting lazily against his thigh.
But even that small, casual gesture carried a threat sharp enough to make my heart stutter.
My father stood frozen. He was a man who had once terrified half the business world, now unable to even meet Matteo's eyes.
He had ruled people with words, with power, with money, but now, he could not even manage to speak.
"Thought so. You don't even have the courage to defend your own lie." Matteo said finally, his voice calm...too calm.
No one spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of the chandelier above us and my mother's shaky breathing.
Then Matteo lowered the gun slowly, placing it on the table beside him. The metallic thud echoed like a verdict.
