The Mafia Prince And His Reincarnated Nemesis Chapter 197: Rest In Hell, Fabio!

Fabio remained there, thinking deeply. He was one million and one per cent sure that there was no cara in that bar. There was no way he could be recorded by a guest in the bar.

’No way! Who must have done this? How many people have watched this video? No! It’s fake!’

He suddenly snatched the phone with his bloodied hand and dialled David’s number. He called repeatedly.

David didn’t answer the phone.

"Pick up the phone goddamnit!" He yelled, almost crashing the phone on the ground.

Then the phone rang... David’s na lit up the screen.

Fabio lifted it up and answered almost imdiately.

"Where did you get that?! Who was filming?! Tell , who has seen that video? Who?!"

David’s voice was ice cold.

"You’ve got so nerve calling ,"

Fabio clenched his teeth, boiling with anger.

"Where the hell did you get that video?! That bar had no caras!"

David was silent for a mont before responding in a slow, asured tone.

"You’ve made a lot of enemies, Fabio. One of them had a cara."

"Stop lying!" Fabio shouted into the phone. "You set up, didn’t you?! Were you working with that bastard Diabolo? He was the one who drugged ? Did you tell him about the drug? Talk to !!!"

"Maybe," David replied, his voice still calm. "Or maybe you’re just careless."

"Delete it! Right now, or I’ll make you regret ever crossing !"

The call didn’t end, but Fabio fell silent.

Then, a second voice crackled through the line.

One that sent a chill down his spine, a voice he hadn’t heard in a long ti.

Marcello.

"Hello, brother," the voice said, soft but loaded with an eerie calmness.

Fabio felt frozen. His mouth moved, but no words ca out.

"You... You’re supposed to be—"

"Dead?" Marcello interrupted, sounding too collected. "Yeah, surprise."

Instinctively, Fabio pulled away from the phone as if it had burned him. "No... that can’t be right..."

His senses heightened, and he started to notice every shadow and every creak echoing through the empty building.

"Where are you?" he hissed, panic bubbling over. "WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

"Why don’t you take a guess? Don’t worry, we’ll be eting very, very... soon," Marcello whispered, and then abruptly, the call ended.

Staring blankly at the phone, Fabio shook with fear.

---

anwhile, across town, a black SUV idled near a hospital. In the backseat, Marcello clutched David’s phone tightly.

David, seated beside him, was glued to a tablet where a GPS tracker blinked insistently.

"We got a hit," David announced. "Call lasted one minute, twenty-three seconds. It ca from the Morano... estate,"

Marcello’s eyes narrowed, tracing the path outside the car window.

"Of course, he’d hide there."

"That house was abandoned after a double murder trial," Maya chid in from the front seat. "No one would dare step foot in there."

"Exactly why he must have picked it... Or he bumped into it by coincidence," Marcello muttered with a flat tone.

David glanced over, not missing a beat. "So, are we doing this?"

Marcello took a deep breath, glancing out at the dark house looming before them.

"Get ready. We move in ten."

.

.

Back inside the crumbling Morano estate, Fabio had done his best to barricade every door. Even though they were broken, so were the windows.

The stale air was thick with the sll of dust, rotting wood, and a scent that reminded him of sothing worse—old blood. The windows were boarded up, and flickering lights were a thing of the past. Only the dim light coming from his phone’s cracked screen broke the oppressive darkness.

In one hand, he gripped a crowbar.

"They’re bluffing," he mumbled to himself, trying to soothe his racing heart. "Marcello’s dead. I saw it with my own eyes. I saw the blood. The damn body..."

But doubt started creeping in, making his own shaky words seem weak.

He slid down against a wall, feeling the chill seep into his bones.

"I need a plan... I need..."

Before he could finish, he heard it.

Car engine rumbling outside the house.

Not just one... There were more than two of them.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

Panic surged through him as he hurried toward the door. The sa door he tried so hard to barricade. He tried to kick it open but it wasn’t budging. His hands were already useless.

.

.

The outside wind whipped through what was left of the Morano estate, howling like it was mourning the loss of sothing once so grand. Ash and dirt spun around like restless spirits, remnants of what used to be a beautiful mansion, now reduced to burned wood, shattered stones, and heart-wrenching mories.

Marcello stood at the edge of the porch, the sound of his boots crunching on the charred gravel echoed around him. He felt the presence of his guards moving like silent sentinels nearby, their eyes sharp, ready for anything.

Alessandro broke the stillness, checking the surroundings. "There’s no movent yet,"

Nikolai soon returned from his scouting on the side of the house.

"He’s in there. I saw his shadow moving in the east wing. Seems like he can’t move because he’s hurt."

Marcello simply nodded. He didn’t have to say a word. Everyone knew what was coming.

---

Inside the devastated mansion, Fabio stumbled, dragging his injured foot behind him. His fingers were wrapped in torn cloth, stained with blood—what little fingers he had left. His once-sharp eyes were wide and frantic as he held onto the crowbar with a shaky grip.

He was scared, yes, but sohow he kept pushing forward. He sensed their presence. He knew Marcello was close.

Yet, curiously enough, he couldn’t help but grin, not out of joy, but because there was sothing twisted, sothing broken within him that forced the smile to the surface.

He limped back to where he was sitting, standing there in the open. Moonlight flooded in through the cracked ceiling, illuminating the dust floating around like snowflakes drifting down.

He didn’t bother to hide.

He just waited. For Marcello.

---

The sound of boots echoed against the walls as Marcello stepped into view first. His black coat swayed slightly with his movent, gun held firmly in his hand, eyes as hard as flint. Behind him, Alessandro and Nikolai maintained their watch but didn’t step in.

"He’s behind this door," Nikolai said.

"Kick it open," Marcello ordered.

Nikolai did as he was ordered. With ease, he burst the door wide open. Unlike soone who wasn’t able to kick it open, he wasn’t weak or injured.

The mont Fabio saw him, a twisted grin ford on his face.

"Well, well, look who decided to show up from hell."

Marcello didn’t reply.

Fabio closed the gap, arms outstretched like a man lost on a mission.

"What’s the matter, Marcello? Thought you’d find begging? Crying?"

He let out a laugh that sounded sharp and nearly insane.

"I’ve got nothing to lose now," he said, bitterness dripping from his words. "You took it all, didn’t you?"

Marcello lifted his gun slightly, his silence saying more than any words could.

"You think you’re better than ... so cold, so clean," Fabio leaned in, pointing the gun at his own chest. "But let’s not kid ourselves, we’re cut from the sa cloth. You just wear your scars better."

Marcello’s voice was quiet but steady when he finally responded.

"Eduardo trusted you. And you betrayed him."

For just a mont, Fabio’s expression faltered.

"I never betrayed him,," he spat, anger boiling over. "He betrayed first and it’s all because of you. He’s always looking up to you like you were so kind of hero. Well, I was the one who stuck around. I was the one there before you ca."

Marcello’s gaze remained unwavering.

"You were jealous."

"Jealous?" Fabio laughed again, but it morphed into a hiss as pain lanced through his injured hand. "Maybe I was. And maybe I still am."

He edged closer, and the guards tensed around them, but Marcello stopped them with a firm hand. The gun was still on his chest.

Fabio stared straight into Marcello’s eyes.

"You love Eduardo," he said, his voice now cracking, "but not as much as I love him."

There was a weighty silence hanging between them, and Marcello just smirked.

"You’re not in love, Fabio. There’s a huge difference between love and obsession," Marcello sneered, "You want to claim Eddy like a trophy but he’s a human with emotion, not your damn toy."

Marcello’s jaw set tighter, his expression steely.

Fabio pressed on, the coldness in his voice evident now. "You think you’ve triumphed, don’t you?"

He limped forward one last ti, closing the distance to just ten feet.

"Yes. Because I was the one he chose, up until the end."

Marcello’s finger tightened around the trigger as he steadied his aim.

"You don’t get to speak for him," he stated evenly.

Fabio sneered again.

"Why? Because you’re scared I’ll steal him away if I stay alive?"

Without hesitation, Marcello raised his gun and pulled the trigger.

BANG.

The shot found its mark in Fabio’s chest, just below the collarbone. The impact sent him reeling back, the crowbar slipping from his grip. He gasped, blood pooling in his mouth.

Marcello moved closer, unwavering, stepping right up to him.

He pulled the trigger again.

BANG.

The second shot pierced through Fabio’s heart. His body lurched forward, eyes wide not with pain but disbelief.

Monts later, he collapsed to his knees and fell.

"I’m not killing you because Eduardo will look for you. I’m only returning the bullets you gave ..." He tossed the gun to Nikolai. "And also, there’s no way Eddy will give you a painless death if he wakes up..."

The building was steeped in silence after that.

No one said a word.

Marcello stood still, breathing evenly, fixated on the lifeless body before him. He didn’t move, didn’t blink.

Nikolai finally broke the silence, taking a step forward. "Marcello..."

Marcello lifted a hand to silence him, his gaze still locked on Fabio’s body.

Finally, he whispered, "Leave him here."

Alessandro raised an eyebrow. "In these ruins?"

Marcello nodded, resolute.

"He made his own grave when he betrayed Eduardo. Let him rest among the ruins of his own lies."

Without further discussion, the n complied with his wishes.

Marcello turned away, the smoke from his gun still lingering in the chilly air.