The Return Of The Young Marshal's

Confrontation at the Mall

CHAPTER 6: Confrontation at the Mall

The Galleria Paradiso was Marina Azzurra's most prestigious shopping destination—five floors of luxury boutiques, crystal chandeliers, and the kind of oppressive elegance that made poor people feel unwelcome just by breathing the perfumed air.

Cecilia led Lorenzo through the gleaming marble corridors toward Bellissimo, an upscale men's store she'd only ever window-shopped at before. The prices made her stomach churn, but Lorenzo had insisted, and she'd reluctantly agreed.

Inside, a beautiful saleswoman named Valentina immediately gravitated toward Lorenzo, her professional smile widening as she assessed his impressive physique.

"Signorina, your boyfriend has an excellent build," Valentina purred. "He'll look magnificent in our new collection."

"He's my husband," Cecilia corrected automatically, then felt her cheeks heat. Were they actually married? Yesterday had been so chaotic she still wasn't sure what was real.

"Lucky you," Valentina murmured, eyeing Lorenzo appreciatively.

Cecilia selected a formal black Armani suit—sleek, elegant, devastatingly expensive. She held it up against Lorenzo's chest, trying to ignore how close she had to stand to do so.

"This should work," she said, her voice slightly breathless. "It's... it's nice."

"Nice?" Lorenzo's lips quirked. "Just nice? I was hoping for 'devastatingly handsome' or 'breathtakingly gorgeous.'"

"Don't be ridiculous—"

"Or perhaps 'so attractive my wife can barely contain herself'?"

Cecilia shoved the suit at him. "Go try it on before I change my mind and buy you something from the clearance rack."

Lorenzo laughed—a real laugh that transformed his usually serious face—and headed toward the fitting rooms. Valentina and two other saleswomen watched him go with appreciative sighs.

"Your husband is..." Valentina began.

"I know," Cecilia said tiredly. "Believe me, I know."

While Lorenzo changed, Cecilia wandered toward the store's entrance, her mind drifting. Tomorrow they'd be expelled from the Ferretti estate. Where would they go? How would they survive? Her savings were laughably small, and Lorenzo, despite his claims of military salary, was still a mystery.

"Well, well. If it isn't the family disgrace."

The voice froze Cecilia's blood. She turned slowly to see Russo Ferretti—Guglielmo's son, her former fiancé before the family had decided she'd be more useful married to Connaro Lombardi—standing with a stunning woman draped on his arm.

Russo looked every inch the wealthy heir: designer suit, Rolex watch, perfectly styled hair. The woman beside him wore a dress that cost more than Cecilia's entire wardrobe.

"Russo," Cecilia said quietly, her heart sinking. "What are you doing here?"

"Shopping, obviously." Russo's smile was cruel. "Unlike some people, I can actually afford to shop at Galleria Paradiso. I heard you married some beggar yesterday? How delightfully desperate."

The woman giggled. "Is this her, Russo? The cousin you were supposed to marry?"

"Thank God that disaster was avoided," Russo said loudly, drawing stares from other shoppers. "Can you imagine? Marrying into that branch of the family? They live in the servant's quarters now, you know. Like insects."

"How tragic," the woman cooed, her sympathy obviously fake. "And I heard her new husband is some kind of epileptic vagrant? Is that true?"

Cecilia's hands clenched into fists. "Lorenzo is not—"

"Lorenzo!" Russo laughed. "Oh, that's rich. You married an epileptic beggar named Lorenzo. Tell me, Cousin, does he collapse and twitch during dinner? How romantic."

"Stop it," Cecilia whispered, fighting back tears.

"Why should I stop? This is hilarious!" Russo stepped closer, his voice dropping to a mock-whisper that still carried to everyone nearby. "Let me tell you some wonderful news, Cousin. Tomorrow, Nonno Filippo is formally expelling you and your pathetic parents from the Ferretti family."

Cecilia's breath caught. She'd known it was coming, but hearing it confirmed was like a knife to the chest.

"And the best part?" Russo's grin widened. "It's all thanks to your epileptic husband. His little tantrum yesterday—attacking Zio Quintino, dislocating his arm—gave the family exactly the excuse they needed. Assault of a family member. Bringing shame to the Ferretti name. You'll be penniless by this time tomorrow."

"Russo, please—"

"Please what? Please show mercy? Why would I do that?" Russo circled her like a shark. "You know what's going to happen, don't you? You and your epileptic beggar husband will be on the streets. Maybe you'll find work as a cleaning lady. Maybe you'll dig through garbage for scraps. Insects belong in the dirt, after all."

Tears streamed down Cecilia's face. She'd known her family was cruel, but hearing it said so casually, so gleefully—it broke something inside her.

"Leave," she managed, her voice trembling. "Just leave, Russo."

"Leave? From a public shopping mall?" Russo pulled out his phone. "I don't think so. In fact, I think YOU should leave. Antonio!" He called to a passing waiter from the mall's café. "Get the manager! There's a vagrant in Bellissimo who needs to be removed!"

"Signore Ferretti?" The waiter's eyes widened. "Right away!"

"Russo, don't—" Cecilia started.

"The Ferretti family has influence everywhere in Marina Azzurra," Russo said smugly. "One word from me and you'll be blacklisted from every decent establishment in the city. You'll shop at discount stores like the insect you are."

The store manager, a thin man named Giuseppe, hurried over. "Signore Ferretti! How may I assist you?"

"This woman," Russo pointed at Cecilia, "is loitering in your store with no intention of purchasing anything. She's making other customers uncomfortable. Please escort her out."

"But signore, she's with—" Valentina tried to intervene.

"With her epileptic beggar husband?" Russo laughed. "Yes, remove him too. This is a respectable establishment."

Giuseppe wrung his hands nervously. The Ferretti family was powerful. But something about the woman's dignity, even in tears, made him hesitate.

Then the fitting room door opened.

Lorenzo emerged in the black Armani suit, and the effect was immediate and electric. The suit fit him perfectly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and lean waist. His military bearing, combined with the elegant clothing, transformed him from mysterious stranger into devastating presence.

Valentina actually gasped. Two other saleswomen froze mid-conversation, staring.

"Dio mio," one whispered.

But Lorenzo's eyes went immediately to Cecilia's tear-stained face. His expression, which had been relaxed and playful moments ago, went cold as winter.

"What happened?" His voice was quiet, dangerous.

"Lorenzo, it's nothing—" Cecilia tried.

Lorenzo's gaze swept the scene: Russo's smug expression, the woman's contemptuous smile, Giuseppe's nervous hovering, and most importantly, Cecilia's tears.

"You made my wife cry," Lorenzo said, his eyes locking on Russo. "Why?"

Russo laughed. "Your wife? You mean the family disgrace I'm doing a favor by having removed from this store? Listen, you lowly son-in-law, this is between Ferretti family members. You're just some vagrant she picked up—"

The slap echoed through the entire store.

Russo's head snapped to the side with such force that two teeth flew from his mouth, trailing blood. He staggered backward, crashing into a display of silk ties.

"Lorenzo!" Cecilia grabbed his arm. "No, you'll make it worse!"

"Worse than making you cry?" Lorenzo's voice was eerily calm. "I don't think that's possible."

Russo touched his bleeding mouth, staring at his crimson fingers in disbelief. "You... you HIT me? Do you know who I AM?"

"I know you're someone who makes women cry," Lorenzo said. "That's all I need to know."

"I'm the second scion of the Ferretti lineage! My father is Guglielmo Ferretti! I'll have you—"

Lorenzo's foot caught Russo in the stomach. The kick sent him flying backward three meters, crashing through a rack of expensive suits. Hangers and fabric exploded in all directions.

The entire store went silent. Shoppers stared in shocked horror.

Russo struggled to his knees, coughing blood. "You... useless scum! You're dead! My father will kill you! The entire family will—"

"Will what?" Lorenzo walked toward him with slow, measured steps. "Treat Cecilia worse than they already have? Force her into another unwanted marriage? Demote her to worse than servant's quarters?"

He crouched down, his face inches from Russo's. "Here's how this works. You never insult my wife again. You never make her cry again. You never even LOOK at her again. Understand?"

"Fuck you, you—"

Lorenzo's boot slammed into Russo's chest, sending him skidding across the polished floor. Russo coughed violently, curling into a ball.

"Lorenzo, STOP!" Cecilia rushed forward, grabbing his arm with both hands. "Please! You'll kill him!"

"Would that be so terrible?" Lorenzo asked, but his voice had softened slightly at her touch.

"Yes! The family will use it against us! They'll have you arrested, or worse!"

Russo groaned from his position on the floor. "Already... already am... pressing charges..."

Lorenzo looked down at the bleeding, broken man with complete indifference. "Let him try. The Ferretti family will learn that some people aren't so easily crushed."

He turned to Cecilia, his expression gentling. "Are you alright?"

"I'm... I'm fine, but Lorenzo, what have you done? This will—"

"Change nothing," Lorenzo said firmly. "They were already going to expel you from the family. They already hate us. All I've done is show them that their cruelty has consequences."