In the advani’s mansion, the storm has walked itself, wearing the face of a man named Santelvo.
Santelvo stood in the hall, his hands clasped behind him, while his dark blue, lapis-like eyes fixed on the staircase with a straight face.
His hair was combed back neatly, but some of his grey hair strands fell on his forehead, and his wide shoulders stretched beneath his three-piece suit.
A shadow of deathly silence overshadowed the mansion; nevertheless, the sound of breathing echoed from the single soul.
The only sound that dared to disturb the silence was rainwater descending from the vast heaven and touching the ground with relentless force.
Arthav descended from the stairs, with hands inside of his pockets.
Salvento lifted his eyes towards Arthav and let out a slow, controlled breath.
“You bastard,” Santelvo barked.
“Woh… woh, that’s not a very nice thing to say to your son-in-law,” Arthav smirked.
Salvento spat.
“Son? Do not insult me with such a word.” His voice dripped with disdain.
“Had I known you carried the tainted blood of that monster you call a father, I would have sooner buried my daughter than given her hand to you.”
With his hands in his pockets, Arthav stopped a few steps away from Santelvo.
His gaze remained fixed on him.
As he slowly tilted his head, a slow smirk spread on his face.
In a dangerous voice he whispered, “Careful, with your words when you speaking about my wife.”
Salvento scoffed, “Huh… Wife?”
“Drop the act; we both know very well why you married her, you lying ass.” Santelvo took a step closer.
“You think I let you hurt my daughter.”
“Daughter,” Arthav repeated.
“Do you know the meaning of this word?”
Salvento’s jaw tightened.
“Where is she?”
“My wife?” A cold smirk tugged at his lips.
“You’ll meet her only if I decide you’re worthy of being in her presence.”
Salvento’s eyes burned with cold fury, his jaw clenched tightly.
It seems that Santelvo might have punched Arthav on his face, but instead an ugly laugh escaped from his mouth.
“Worthy.”
“You dare speak to me of worthiness? You rotten, lying bastard.”
“Lie,” Arthav laughed bitterly, mocking him.
“I never lied, you were just,” he scratched his chin, “too easy to fool.”
Arthav put his hands on his pockets again and looked towards the armed men Santelvo had brought; they all stood at the end of the hallway in a crescent formation behind Santelvo.
His gaze traveled back to Santelvo when he spoke.
“Tell me. What brings you here, Santelvo?”
“You know exactly why I am here.”
“Humor me.” Arthav’s mouth lifted from the corners.
“I enjoy hearing fools repeat themselves.”
The temperature in the hall seemed to rise.
The guards from both sides—Arthav’s and Santelvo’s—looked at each other, a tense crease clearly resting on their faces.
They all knew that one wrong move, one command, and the entire hall could turn into a slaughterhouse in seconds.
Santelvo took another step forward; he lifted his hand and slammed it on Arthav’s shoulder loudly.
Leon took a step forward, Arthav lifted his hand and signaled him to stop.
“Watch your tongue, boy.” Santelvo drawled in a harsh voice.
Arthav lowered his gaze slowly to the hand on his shoulder.
His eyes were terrifyingly calm.
Neither of them blinked, not for a second.
Arthav glared at him as if he was going to eat him alive in one single breath.
Arthav removed Salvento’s hand from his shoulder and threw it away with force.
Santelvo tilted his head slightly and ran a hand through his hair combing his gray strands back from his forehead.
He let out a slow bitter laugh, looking to his left.
“Ohh… you have your father’s temper, eh?”
“Tsk, I have enough chat with you, boy. Where is she?”
“I am here to take what is mine.” Santelvo growled.
Arthav’s eyes darkened.
“She is no longer yours. Whatever claim you think you have over her ended the moment she became my wife.”
“You stole her from me.”
Arthav laughed.
“I don’t steal, I claimed it. And don’t forget that you happily married her to me.”
Santelvo’s jaw tightened, and a muscle in his forehead twitched as absolute loathing filled his eyes.
Arthav just landed a punch on his stomach with nothing but his words.
Without even laying a hand on him, Arthav had damaged him in a way a thousand bullets never could.
Because Santelvo was the very man who had failed to recognize Arthav, and he just happily wed his daughter to him.
“If I had any idea, boy, who you belong to, the day of the wedding would have been your last day.”
Arthav chuckled playfully.
“And what makes you think that would have changed anything?”
“And why is that?” Santelvo asked slowly, dragging the words out.
“Because I can still take her back.”
The smirk on Arthav’s face disappeared in seconds.
Every trace of amusement that sat on his face since the start of the conversation had vanished.
His eyes darkened, and the beast from earlier returned in his iris.
“Try,” Arthav growled.
His single word echoed through the entire hall.
Salvento stepped forward.
Arthav stepped forward.
Now only inches separated them.
They stood close enough to strike each other.
Two predators stood face to face only a step away to kill each other.
The air is fully charged and was ready for blood.
Two men who would rather die than bow.
And for one horrifying second—
Everyone in the room believed blood was about to be spilled.
“Move, boy.” Santelvo growled.
“Make me.”
Santelvo moved before anyone could react.
His hands grabbed Arthav’s throat, digging his finger brutally into the pulping muscles of his neck, forcing his head back.
The old man’s grip tightened with terrifying strength; he squeezed it as tightly as possible, making it hard to breathe.
The veins in Santelvo’s hands bulged violently.
The tighter he clenched Arthav’s throat, the more those veins swelled, standing out beneath his skin like twisted cords.
The atmosphere had turned scorching hot.
Santelvo had made the first move.
He had struck first, and everyone in the hall knew it.
Within seconds, guns were drawn.
Arthav’s men pulled out their weapons and aimed them at Santelvo’s Guard.
In response, they also pulled out their gun and aimed it.
Fingers rested on triggers, every man poised to fire at a moment’s notice.
Yet amid all the chaos, not a single crease appeared on Arthav’s forehead.
Instead, a venomous smile slowly spread across his face.
“Not a smart man, eh?”
Santelvo’s eyes narrowed.
The metallic click of a revolver being cocked echoed through the hall.
Arthav pressed the cold barrel firmly against the old man’s kidney.