ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond
Chapter 70: ★I have a bride?★

Chapter 70: ★I have a bride?★

~Chapter 70~

I didn’t want to be touched, didn’t want to be comforted. I was too busy trying to process the bombshell my grandmother had just dropped.

An heir?

A bride? Was she seriously suggesting that I settle down, start a family?

The thought was absurd, laughable even. Me, Romeo, the ruthless and cunning head of the Salvatore family, tied down to a wife and kids? No, I didn’t think so.

I don’t want an heir nor a bride. I didn’t want the responsibility, the vulnerability, the constant worry that came with having a family in our line of work.

We were in the Mafia, after all, where loyalty was a luxury and death lurked around every corner.

Taking a bride would mean taking a weakness, a liability that could be exploited by our enemies.

And I didn’t need that. I didn’t need the weight of someone else’s safety on my shoulders. I didn’t need the constant fear of losing someone I married, of leaving them behind to pick up the pieces of a shattered life..

Even if I don’t marry for love, I would need to put up a face for them whenever they would be in danger.

And what about the children? I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing innocent lives into this twisted world, of condemning them to a life of fear and uncertainty.

Just like how I was brought in. I didn’t want to be the reason why someone grew up without a father, why someone became a widow at a young age

No, I was better off alone, free to make my own decisions, free to live my own life without the burden of responsibility.

"I don’t need an heir," I said coldly, leaving no room for further discussion. But my grandmother was not one to be deterred easily.

She had a reputation for being stubborn and unyielding, and she lived up to it now.

"You aren’t getting any younger, Romeo," she pressed on. "What would have happened if your father, Salvatore hadn’t wanted an heir too?" she asked, forgetting the implication of bringing up that man.

Anger swelled in me at the mention of him. It was a sensitive topic, one that I didn’t like to discuss

And my grandmother knew it. She was pushing my buttons deliberately, trying to get a rise out of me.

I banged my hands on the table, the sound echoing through the room. "Don’t bring his name up!" I shouted loud and clear.

But the old hag still ignored me. She’s on a mission, and she wouldn’t be silenced.

Now is the time I so want to kill a family member, my gun could come in handy.

"What would have become of the organization if you weren’t born? What would have become of me if I didn’t have you to still remember my piccolo, Salvatore?" She spoke his name with so much pain that cut deep into my soul.

Uncontrollable rage and grief at the mention of my father’s name surge through me. It was like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless and reeling.

I jumped up from my chair eyes blazing with anger as I scanned the room for something to destroy.

I needed something, something to damage, to make that that thing feel the pain I was feeling.

My gaze landed on a wine bottle, and I didn’t hesitate, I picked it up and sent it flying across the room.

It shattered against the wall but that didn’t take my pain nor the grief.

"I fucking said, don’t call his name!" I bellowed "Last fucking time!" I slammed my fist on the table, the force of the blow making the silverware jump and fell.

Tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I refused to let them. I wouldn’t give my grandmother the satisfaction of seeing me break down.

My old man was dead, and his name should have been buried with him. I wasn’t him, and he wasn’t me.

We were two different people, with different paths and different destinies. My grandmother should have shut the fuck up and gone back to the country I, where she could mourn her son’s death in peace.

But no, she had to keep pushing, had to keep trying to guilt trip me into doing what she wanted.

"My poor child died," she wailed? She fucking wailed, her voice dripping with false sorrow.

"He died, and now I won’t be able to hold his own grandchild, because his son doesn’t want an heir." She was really laying it on thick, trying to blackmail me with her crocodile tears.

I could see the calculation in her eyes, the way she was trying to manipulate me into feeling guilty and responsible for her happiness.

But I wasn’t having it. I knew her game, and I wasn’t going to play along. I was my own person, with my own desires and my own destiny.

And I wouldn’t be swayed by her emotional blackmail.

I pushed my chair back and stood up, my intention clear: to storm out of the room and find someone to take out my frustrations on.

But my grandmother was not about to let me go that easily. She amped up her acting skills, wailing louder and clutching at her chest like she was about having a heart attack.

I rolled my eyes, clicking my tongue in annoyance, but I couldn’t quite bring myself to leave her there, fake-dying on her wheelchair.

I walked back over to her, looking down at her dramatic display.

"Seriously, Grandma?" I scoffed. "You’re going to pull the heart attack card? That’s a new low, even for you." I shook my head, trying not to laugh at her over-the-top antics.

But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel a little guilt. Maybe I was being too harsh on her. Maybe she really was worried about the future of the family.

_$&:__

"Nonna, acting like you’re dying won’t change the fact that I don’t need an heir," I said softly, bending over to her sitting form.

My voice now was gentle, but firm, and I made sure to maintain eye contact with her.

Her teary eyes met my dark ones, and she gave me a pitiful face that almost looked comical. She was really milking this for all it was worth.

"Oh, Lord," she continued her wailing, her breath becoming more ragged and strained.

She was really selling this dramatic performance, and I had to admit, I was a little impressed. But I wasn’t about to fall for it.

My knees were starting to hurt from bending over, so I pushed a chair nearer to her and sat down, holding onto her shoulders.

Feeling her trembling beneath my grasp, I gently patted my grandmother’s shoulders, trying to soothe her and calm her down.

"Nonna, per favore, smettila di piangere. Grandma, please, stop crying." I whispered softly. Hse was old, and I didn’t want her to exert herself too much.

This dramatic display was already taking a toll on her, and I worried that she might actually have a heart attack if she kept going.

But she just shook her head at me, her eyes streaming with tears. This went on for a solid five to ten minutes, with me trying to calm her down and her refusing to be comforted.

I was starting to get frustrated, and my patience was wearing thin. This shit wasn’t for her old age.

Finally, I’d had enough. "Grandma, it’s alright," I said firmly, puting an end to this drama.

She just looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and shook her head again.

"I would have a bride," I spat out, the words bitter on my lips.

I didn’t even know who I was talking about, but I knew I had to say something to shut her up.

But now that I’d said it, I realized that I had just painted myself into a corner. Who was this bride I would get, anyway?

I had no idea.

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