The Mafia Prince And His Reincarnated Nemesis-Chapter 198: I’m Not Eduardo, I Am...

By the time it was morning, news already spread about Fabio’s death.

Former Russian Prince, Fabio Santoro Found Dead—Suspected Suicide After Leaked Videos!"

Disgraced Billionaire Ends Life Following Leaked Video!

Fabio Santoro’s Fall: From Power to Public Shame

The world went wild. Talk shows were buzzing with commentary about his "tragic mental decline." Meanwhile, social media exploded with conspiracy theories. Some folks were sympathetic, suggesting stress led him to this end, while others took a different route, mocking him relentlessly.

A few even shouted for justice, but their voices were drowned in a toxic sea of gossip and savage memes.

The real story? It was nowhere to be found. No one knew about what actually happened.

There was no mention of the house where he died.

Not a single word about the gunshot wounds.

And definitely no hints about Marcello Morano’s involvement.

Marcello had set the stage perfectly. He’d arranged for everything, carefully created and leaked tapes of him to a fake account, and made sure the right information got to the right media outlets.

And just like that, the public bought it.

All the while, Marcello watched the news report from the side, staring at the TV.

He didn’t show any emotion.

There was no smirk on his face and no words came from his mouth.

---

The private hospital where Eduardo lay was eerily quiet. It felt almost too controlled, with tinted windows and discreet guards standing watch. Only a select few were granted entry to the room on the third floor.

There lay Eduardo, unmoving.

Two days passed without a twitch.

His skin had lost its colour, and his lips were cracked and dry. The machines surrounding him beeped softly, providing a steady rhythm to the silence.

Marcello stayed at the window, glued to the spot.

He hadn’t gone anywhere.

Sleep? It was a luxury he couldn’t afford right now.

All he could do was watch and wait.

As he did, memories of Carlo flooded his mind. Why Carlo? Because he was in his old house a few days ago?

He just can’t get himself to forget Carlo.

Then there was Eduardo.

It seemed almost cruel to know he loved them both yet faced such different losses.

The door was wide open, and someone walked in. Marcello calmly turned his head, and his eyes met the strange yet familiar man.

He looked so dashing and young with his leather jacket and jeans.

"How’s he?" The stranger asked, walking towards Eduardo.

Marcello swore that he almost pulled out his gun from behind him, but he stopped himself, seeing the resemblance between him and Eduardo.

"You must be Antonio Ivanov, Eddy’s father,"

The man turned to look at Marcello and with a grin, he leaned back, pulling his hand away from touching his son.

"And you must be Eddy’s lover, Marcello Diabolo,"

Marcello shot his eyes wide open.

’How did he know about me? Did he... Did Eddy tell his father about me?’

"Eddy told me about you," Antonio answered as if he read Marcello’s mind.

"Oh, I... It’s nice to finally meet you in person, sir," he stuttered nervously.

"Yes, I’ve been waiting to meet the person who turned my son into a slave," he said, and Marcello folded his lips, feeling guilty.

Antonio burst into laughter.

"I’m just kidding. There are tons of people who wish to see him, but I made them stay back in Russia. It’ll be a bother if they know my son is lying unconscious in the hospital,"

"I’m doing my best to prevent any rumour from spreading," Marcello responded obediently. He was never this obedient to his own father when he was alive. He just felt he had to speak to Antonio calmly.

"Good job," he said and looked back at Eduardo. "My son is strong. I’m sure he’ll pull through,"

"Yes sir... He will," Marcello responded.

Antonio smiled and turned around to leave.

"I’ll be leaving him with you... Nothing must happen to my son,"

"Yes sir!" He shrieked...

The moment the door slammed closed, he heaved a breath of relief.

But on the third morning, it happened.

Eduardo’s fingers moved ever so slightly.

His eyelids fluttered. Then his eyes opened.

David, who was in charge of keeping an eye on him, shot to his feet, heart racing in his chest.

"Eduardo?"

The boy blinked again, clearly dazed.

He tried to speak, lips barely moving.

David leaned in closer.

"You’re awake. Thank goodness..."

Eduardo peered up at him but then frowned slightly.

"...where am I?" His voice was rough and strained.

David felt a knot in his stomach.

"You’re safe. You’re in a hospital. Hold on, I’m going to call the doctor,"

Eduardo’s gaze sharpened as he watched David run toward the door.

"Wait... who are you?"

David paused before he opened the door. Slowly, he turned back to look at Eduardo on the bed. His chest was racing.

"Who am I? What do you mean?"

"I said," Eduardo replied, fixing him with a steady gaze, "who are you?"

The room felt colder, heavier. David stumbled closer to him. He tried to touch him, but Eduardo slapped his hand off.

David lowered his head and saw a green button close to the bed. It was for an emergency, but this felt more than just an emergency. He pushed it repeatedly and after a few seconds, not just the doctor, even Marcello was in the office.

They started checking his condition as David explained his first words after he opened his eyes.

David stepped closer, trying to remind him.

"Eduardo, it’s me. David. You were hurt. Can you remember anything at all?"

Eduardo didn’t respond immediately.

He looked around and his eyes fell on Marcello. It remained fixed on him.

"Why did you save me after killing everyone?"

Marcello furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what he was talking about. He stoked closer also, shoving David aside.

"What are you talking about Eddy?"

"Eddy?" He furrowed his eyebrows as if it wasn’t his name. "My name isn’t Eddy or... Eduardo,"

With caution, as if he were trying out the words, he slowly said, "I’m... Carlo. Carlo Morano." 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

At that moment, Marcello felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

Eduardo... or rather, Carlo... was staring him down with an intensity that felt real, devoid of any humour.

"I’m Carlo Morano. I’m not Eddy, and stay the hell away from me, traitor!" he repeated, and the world seemed to tilt under Marcello’s feet.

He stumbled backwards into the chair, utterly speechless.

His mind raced.

Carlo was gone. Gone from the surface of the earth. He had been the one to burn the man who previously had made him feel warmth in a cold world.

But now, here was Eduardo, with those familiar soft eyes and that quivering voice, saying things Marcello never believed he’d hear again.

"I don’t understand," Marcello finally managed to say. "We promised to meet again in hell... Is this hell?"

---

Outside, David stood watching through the glass, his expression tight.

"Something feels off," he muttered to himself.

Maria stepped up beside him, concern etched on her face.

"It’s like he forgot everything. Even who he is, now he’s claiming he’s what now?"

"Or maybe..." David glanced down the corridor. "Maybe he really is Carlo."

Maya stood there, her hand pressing against her chest. The Eduardo she knew was gone and it was left with... Carlo Morano.

’I guess I should tell them everything,’