Chapter 88 - the dead language
tessa didn't flinch. she slowly swirled the red wine in her crystal glass, looking at the trembling sicilian crime lord with absolute, unadulterated pity. the cinematic silence in the grand library was incredibly heavy. "you came into my home to speak of bloodlines," tessa said softly. she didn't speak in english. she spoke in the thick, beautiful, and terrifying old palermo dialect. it was the exact dead language her murdered father had taught her. dante froze, completely shocked that an american-born woman possessed the true, ancient tongue of his ancestors. the psychological warfare instantly shattered his fragile confidence. "i didn't just drain your bank accounts, dante," tessa continued in flawless sicilian, her voice dripping with lethal precision. "i reallocated them. i paid your men triple their lifetime wages exactly ten minutes before you breached my door." dante gasped. he turned his head slowly. the four heavily armed mercenaries he had brought to execute the queen had lowered their weapons. they stepped away from dante, silently raising their guns and pointing them directly at their former boss.
👉 how will tessa deliver the ultimate punishment to the traitor?
