Chapter 129: It’s Belong to Us
Teo walked slowly into the kitchen but saw Milo in the dining room instead. He stopped and walked there. His shoes made a quiet, hesitant sound. His shoulders were hunched, and his eyes stayed down.
He stopped three feet from the edge of the table, his hands twisting the fabric of his trousers. He was so nervous. He was sure Milo would kill him. But he had to be brave and accept it if Milo really hated him.
After all, he had made a big mistake.
Milo was sitting in a chair near the head of the table, a cup of warm tea between his palms as he waited for Salvatore.
When he saw the shadow cross the threshold, he looked up, his hazel eyes widening in sudden shock.
"Teo!" Milo said, his voice rising as he set his cup down with a soft rattle.
Teo didn’t lift his head. The deep guilt on his face was absolute, his cheeks turning a tight, uncomfortable red.
He then looked up at Milo. "Milo... Uh... I came to apologize. Salvatore allowed me to come back here today, but he told me I had to see you first."
Milo stood up from his chair, his movements slightly stiff. He walked around the table, stopping right in front of the boy.
He looked at Teo’s shaking hands and the genuine terror in his posture. Milo knew exactly what it felt like to live in constant fear.
He knew what Teo had done. And it had truly hurt him. But Teo was a kid in his eyes. He just couldn’t hate him. Especially after he came to apologize.
"It’s okay, Teo," Milo said softly, his voice clear and completely free of malice. "I forgive you already. I’m not angry with you."
Teo finally lifted his eyes, his expression swimming with a mix of surprise and relief. "But... I made a big mistake, Milo. I put you in danger. I’m really sorry..."
"It’s passed now. We can’t change the past. But you apologized, and I decided to accept it." Milo said, reaching out to place his palm gently against Teo’s shoulder. His touch was warm and grounding. "You are back now. That means Sal... I mean, Mr. Portello wants to trust you again, and I do too. Let’s just forget it."
Teo let out a long, shaky breath, the severe tension draining from his chest all at once. He was ready to cry, and now he was crying.
"Thank you, Milo. I’m so sorry... I will not do it again. I promise!" Teo stuttered.
Milo grabbed him and gave him a hug. "Yes, please, don’t do it again. I trust you, and I love you as my own brother."
Teo cried harder and hugged Milo tighter.
Then Salvatore walked in, standing tall in his charcoal vest and white shirt, his eyes immediately scanning the scene.
"Sit down," Salvatore commanded flatly, his deep voice cutting through the quiet room. He walked to the head of the table, pulling his chair out.
He looked at Teo, who had instantly frozen at attention. "Both of you. Sit down."
Teo looked down. "Milo forgave me... Can I stay here again?"
"Yes, you can. And don’t see his forgiveness as gratitude. As I told you before, if I catch you doing this stupid thing again, you know what will happen."
Teo gulped. He nodded quickly. "Yes, Salvatore. I understand. I’m sorry."
"Forget about it now. You are back, and sit down. We eat together. I need to go after this."
Teo looked confused and nervous. "I can eat in the kitchen with Stella."
"I told you to sit," Salvatore repeated, his tone flat and unyielding, leaving zero room for argument. "Sit next to Milo."
Milo grabbed Teo and made him sit down near him. He was afraid Salvatore would get angry.
Teo sat down quickly, his movements incredibly careful as Michelle walked in from the pantry side, setting two fresh plates of eggs and toasted bread before them.
Michelle was surprised to see Teo. "Hi, sweety! You are back?"
Teo smiled widely and nodded.
Michelle smiled. "Oh, dear. I will prepare food for you. Okay?"
"Thank you, Michelle!"
A moment later, Roderick entered the dining room. He had a small stack of folders under his arm, his face still showing a slight, dark swelling along his left jawline from the midnight fistfight with Alben.
Salvatore noticed it before, and now he finally had time to ask. "What happened to your face?"
Roderick shrugged. "No. Nothing. Just a common fight."
"With who?"
"Not important. Please don’t mind me."
"Tell me who. I will break their neck."
Roderick just smiled. "Oh, come on. It’s just a normal fight."
"I have never seen you fight without reason. Tell me."
Roderick sighed. "Seriously, I’m fine."
Salvatore was worried because that man was about to die. And he thought whoever fought with Roderick could be the key to who was going to kill him.
"Rod, tell me. Please."
"Sal, seriously. I’m fine."
He looked exhausted, so Salvatore gave up.
"I will look for it later. Come sit down. We eat together first."
Roderick blinked, completely unbalanced by the instruction. He looked at the table, his brow furrowing. "Sal, it’s important. I can eat in my office later."
"They can wait," Salvatore growled softly, his voice dropping low. He pointed to the empty chair across from Milo. "Sit down, Rod. That is an order."
Roderick let out a short, confused breath but obeyed, sliding into the leather seat and setting his folders on the floor beside his boots. He adjusted his collar shirt, looking thoroughly uncomfortable.
Teo just looked at him. He was about to tell Salvatore, but it seemed it was not the right time.
Salvatore was eating, then he looked directly into Roderick’s face. "You are moving here today, Rod. I want you and Teo to sleep here from now on. We have a lot of empty rooms. Choose one."
Roderick sighed, his expression hardening with a sharp, defensive edge. "We talked about this, Sal. My house is perfectly secure. I don’t feel comfortable sleeping here with guards moving through the corridors all night. Why do you keep insisting on this?"
"Because it is easier for me to monitor your position if you are here," Salvatore lied smoothly, his eyes cold and unreadable. "The situation is unstable right now with Macron’s case. I want you personally within arm’s reach."
"I am always here anyway, most of the time," Roderick argued, his professional pride clearly irritated by the forced restriction.
Salvatore’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle jumped near his ear. He wanted to scream the truth at his oldest friend, to tell him that he was marked for death, but he knew Roderick’s stubborn nature.
If Roderick knew he was going to die, he would simply double his field rotations to secure the place before his time ended, driving himself straight into the threat.
"Whatever," Salvatore muttered, letting out a long, heavy sigh as he picked up his coffee cup.
Milo watched the exchange in complete silence, his heart aching with a profound, suffocating sadness as he remembered Roderick.
He was sure Salvatore was worried about the man. Even he was so sad, and it was worse when he couldn’t do anything.
Milo checked the watch. It was already late. He turned his head to look at Salvatore.
"Sir... Liam should be arriving by now. I need to go."
"Liam will not come today," Salvatore said, his tone shifting back to his regular, businesslike efficiency. "You are coming with me this morning."
Milo looked confused, his jaw dropping slightly. "With you? Where are we going, Sir?"
"Get ready," Salvatore commanded flatly, rising from the table. "You will see."
An hour later, the black car pulled onto a massive, gravel-covered clearing near the traditional Portello marketplace.
The heavy rain that poured all night had stopped, leaving the air thick with damp mist and the smell of wet earth.
All around the clearing, dozens of construction workers in bright yellow vests were operating heavy excavators and drilling machinery, the loud mechanical roaring of the engines making the ground vibrate beneath Milo’s shoes.
Salvatore stood near the edge of the gravel, his hands tucked into his suit pockets, his broad shoulders completely dominating the site layout. He looked out over the deep foundation lines that had been dug into the clay.
Milo walked closely beside him. He looked at the massive scale of the concrete pillars being lifted by the cranes.
"I am building a new space for the local sellers here," Salvatore said, his deep voice easily cutting through the mechanical noise of the construction site. "There will be structured stalls for everyone, and I will build a large parking space. What do you think about it, Milo?"
Milo blinked, his head tilting in complete confusion as he looked from the blueprints in a manager’s hand to the massive concrete field. "Uh... sorry, Sir? What do you mean?"
Salvatore turned his head slowly, his eyes locking onto Milo’s pale face with an intense, serious focus. "By this time, you should know that this place will belong to us. You need to start giving some ideas for the structures. I would like to adapt your genuine ideas into the plan."
Milo gulped, his throat turning dry as his heart gave a sudden, heavy thud against his ribs. The realization of what the man was saying hit him like a physical weight. "It’s... it belongs to us, Sir?"
"Yes," Salvatore stated flatly, his tone carrying an absolute, unyielding finality. "You have to know this plan from the start. You have the Hartley name, and these markets will connect directly with your company. We will make a deal. It will be much better for your future."
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