Rise Of The Billionaire Son-in-law

Chapter 6

The emergency room at Osborne Hospital bustled with its usual Friday evening chaos—overworked nurses, beeping monitors, and the antiseptic smell that clung to everything. In treatment room seven, Carlos Moretti lay on a gurney, his face contorted in exaggerated agony as a doctor examined his ribs.

Rosa hovered beside him like a vengeful harpy, her phone clutched in one hand, already scrolling through her contacts. "My baby," she cooed, stroking Carlos's hair. "My poor, innocent baby. That monster will pay for this. I swear on everything holy, he will pay."

"It hurts, Ma," Carlos whimpered, milking the injury for all it was worth. "I can barely breathe. He could've killed me. He tried to kill me!"

Dr. Sarah Mitchell—no relation to Dr. Mitchell from the Messina case—finished her examination and straightened, her expression professionally neutral. "You have two fractured ribs on your right side. The fractures are clean, non-displaced. You'll need pain management, rest, and follow-up in two weeks. No heavy lifting, no strenuous activity."

"What about surgery?" Rosa demanded. "Doesn't he need surgery? Isn't this life-threatening?"

"No surgery necessary for hairline fractures like these," Dr. Mitchell explained patiently. "They'll heal on their own with proper care. He's lucky—whoever did this knew exactly how much force to use. A little more pressure and we'd be looking at punctured lungs or worse."

"Lucky?" Rosa's voice rose to a shriek. "My son was brutally assaulted by a violent criminal, and you're saying he's lucky?"

Dr. Mitchell's professionalism slipped slightly. "Ma'am, I'm saying the person who caused these injuries had medical knowledge and restraint. These aren't the injuries you get from a brutal assault. They're precise, controlled—"

"Are you defending his attacker?" Rosa's face turned an alarming shade of red. "Are you seriously standing there, telling me my son deserved this?"

"I'm not saying that at all—"

"Get out!" Rosa pointed at the door. "Get out and send me a competent doctor! One who actually cares about patients instead of making excuses for criminals!"

Dr. Mitchell left with a weary sigh, probably grateful to escape the madness.

The moment she was gone, Rosa pulled out her phone again, dialing with vicious determination. "Hello? Yes, I need to speak with Attorney Richard Fontaine. Yes, I'll hold." She covered the mouthpiece, turning to Carlos. "Richard owes me favors. Lots of favors. He'll crucify Marco in court."

Carlos managed a pained grin despite his discomfort. "The same Richard who was—"

"Yes," Rosa cut him off sharply, glancing around to ensure no one was listening. "Which makes him extra motivated to help us. Marco humiliated him too, bringing up that... situation. Richard will want revenge as much as we do."

"Mrs. Lombardi?" A smooth voice came through the phone. "This is Richard Fontaine. What can I do for you?"

"Richard, darling, I need your expertise." Rosa's voice transformed into saccharine sweetness. "My son was attacked—brutally assaulted by that parasite Marco Giordano. He has fractured ribs, possible internal injuries, and we need to press charges immediately. Assault, attempted murder, whatever will stick."

There was a pause. "Marco did this? Your former son-in-law?"

"Ex son-in-law," Rosa corrected viciously. "And yes. He showed his true colors the moment Isabella divorced him. Violent, unstable, dangerous. We need him arrested, Richard. We need him destroyed."

"I'll need to see medical reports, witness statements—"

"I have video!" Rosa crowed triumphantly. "I recorded the whole thing on my phone!"

"Send it to me immediately. If the evidence is solid, we can have him arrested within forty-eight hours."

Rosa's smile was predatory. "Make it twenty-four. I want that animal behind bars where he belongs."

She ended the call and immediately started another. This time, Isabella's face appeared on the screen via video call. Isabella sat in her car, her makeup smudged from crying.

"Isabella!" Rosa snapped. "Where are you? Your brother is in the hospital because of your husband—"

"Ex-husband," Isabella corrected automatically.

"Whatever! He nearly killed Carlos! Get down here now!"

"Mom, I saw what happened—"

"Then you saw that violent criminal attack your brother for no reason!"

Isabella hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her face. "Carlos had a knife—"

"For protection! Because he knew Marco was dangerous!" Rosa's lie came effortlessly. "Carlos was trying to de-escalate the situation, and Marco attacked him! Are you really going to take that parasite's side over your own family?"

"I'm not taking anyone's side—"

"Then prove it. Call Marco. Demand he apologize. Tell him if he doesn't come to this hospital and beg Carlos's forgiveness, we're pressing full charges. Attempted murder, Isabella. Your ex-husband will spend the next twenty years in prison."

Isabella's face crumpled. "Mom, I don't think—"

"DO IT!" Rosa's screech made several nurses look over. She lowered her voice to a venomous hiss. "You brought this creature into our family. You married him despite our reservations. This is partially your fault, Isabella. Fix it. Make him apologize, or live with the guilt of your brother's suffering."

The video call ended. Isabella sat in her car for several minutes, her hands trembling on the steering wheel. Finally, she pulled up Marco's contact and hit call.

Marco answered on the third ring. "What do you want, Isabella?"

"You... you need to apologize." Her voice came out weaker than she intended.

"Excuse me?"

"To Carlos. You hurt him, Marco. He's in the hospital with fractured ribs. The doctors say he might need surgery—"

"The doctors said no such thing," Marco interrupted calmly. "Two hairline fractures, non-displaced, no surgical intervention required. Six weeks recovery. I know because I caused them, and I know exactly what damage I inflicted."

"You admit it!" Isabella seized on this. "You admit you attacked him!"

"I defended myself against someone who pulled a knife on me."

"That's not what happened—"

"Isabella, your mother recorded it. The video will show Carlos attacking first."

"The video shows you being violent! You could have walked away! You could have de-escalated!" Isabella's voice rose hysterically. "But no—you had to prove something, didn't you? You had to show off your newfound confidence, your secret abilities. You've been hiding who you really are for three years!"

"I've been exactly who I am for three years," Marco said quietly. "You just never bothered to look."

"Don't turn this around on me! You're a violent criminal, Marco! You attacked my brother!"

"Your brother attacked me with a knife. I disarmed him and used minimal force to stop the threat. That's self-defense, not assault."

"Minimal force?" Isabella's laugh was shrill. "He has broken ribs! He can barely breathe! He's in agony!"

"Then maybe he shouldn't have attacked someone trained in combat and medicine." Marco's patience was clearly wearing thin. "What do you want, Isabella?"

"An apology. To Carlos. In person." Isabella took a shaky breath. "You need to come to Osborne Hospital every day until he's discharged and kneel before his bed. Apologize for what you did. Show remorse. If you do that, maybe—maybe—we won't press charges."

The silence on the other end stretched so long that Isabella thought he'd hung up.

"You want me," Marco said finally, his voice dangerously soft, "to kneel before the man who attacked me with a knife and apologize for defending myself?"

"Yes."

"And you believe this is reasonable?"

"I believe you owe my family this much! After everything we've done for you! After we took you in, fed you, clothed you—"

"Stop." Marco's single word cut through her tirade like a blade. "Isabella, I'm going to say this once. I'm not apologizing. I'm not kneeling. I'm not playing into your family's delusions. Carlos attacked me. I defended myself with appropriate force. That's what happened, and that's what any court will conclude when they see your mother's video."

"You're so different now," Isabella whispered, something like fear entering her voice. "You're not the man I married. You're showing your true colors—violent, arrogant, cruel—"

"I'm exactly the man you married," Marco corrected. "I'm just no longer willing to be your family's punching bag. There's a difference."

"Is this because of that Messina woman? Did she put these ideas in your head? Did she turn you into this?"

"This has nothing to do with Jessica."

"Then what? What changed? What made you snap?"

"You did." Marco's voice carried a finality that made Isabella's breath catch. "You pushed and pushed and pushed, and you were so certain I'd never push back. Congratulations, Isabella. You finally found my limit."

"Are you threatening me?"

"I'm warning you. Don't push this legal route. You'll regret it."

"Is that a threat?" Isabella's voice took on a triumphant edge. "Because I'm recording this conversation, Marco. Anything you say can be used against you in court."

"Then let me be very clear for your recording." Marco's tone could have frozen fire. "I acted in self-defense. Carlos Moretti attacked me with a lethal weapon. I used appropriate, measured force to neutralize the threat. I have no remorse for protecting myself. If you or your family pursue legal action, I will defend myself vigorously, and I will countersue for assault, defamation, and harassment. Do you understand?"

"You can't afford lawyers—"

"Try me."

Isabella opened her mouth to respond, but the line went dead. Marco had hung up.

She sat in her car, staring at her phone, a cold knot forming in her stomach. For the first time, real fear crept in. This wasn't the quiet, submissive Marco she'd known. This was someone else entirely—someone she'd apparently lived with for three years without ever really seeing.

Back at the hospital, Rosa finished sending the edited video to Richard Fontaine—edited carefully to start just after Carlos pulled the knife, making it appear Marco had attacked without provocation. She turned to her son with a satisfied smile.

"It's done. Richard will have the paperwork filed by Monday morning. Assault charges, possibly attempted murder if we're lucky."

"Will it stick?" Carlos asked, shifting carefully to avoid aggravating his ribs.

"With my testimony, Isabella's statement, the video evidence, and Richard's legal expertise?" Rosa's smile was vicious. "That parasite will be lucky if he doesn't spend the next decade in prison. He thought he could humiliate our family? Hurt my son? He's about to learn that the Morettis don't forgive, and we never forget."

"What if he has a good lawyer?"

"He's broke, Carlos. He has nothing. No savings, no assets, no connections. Who's going to defend him?" Rosa laughed. "That Messina woman? Please. Once she realizes he comes with legal baggage and assault charges, she'll drop him like a hot potato. Rich people don't stick around when things get messy."

Carlos managed a weak grin despite his pain. "I can't wait to see his face when they arrest him."

"Neither can I, baby. Neither can I." Rosa patted his hand gently. "Now rest. Save your strength. You'll need to testify in court about how that monster brutally attacked you. Really sell it—crying, pain, trauma. Make the jury hate him."

"I can do that."

"I know you can." Rosa's eyes glittered with malicious anticipation. "By the time we're done, Marco Giordano will wish he'd never crossed the Moretti family. He'll wish he'd stayed in his place—quiet, obedient, worthless. He tried to rise above his station, and we're going to crush him b

ack down where he belongs. In the dirt, where parasites like him deserve to be."