en and Seraphina stepped onto the sun-drenched pavement. I tried to pull Angelo away, but it was too late. Se

g. His eyes swept over me with the absolu

distance so as not to brush against us. "Poor child. You must have suffered so much out there with your mother." She turned to Damien, he

ened in mild annoyance, as if we were nothing mor

lation. I saw the subtle, triumphant shift in her eyes. She realized Damien didn't care about t

grip on Angelo's hand and walked away, disa

Grand Hall smelled of old leather, cigar smoke, and unspoken tension. Before Maria c

voice laced with venom. "Everyone in our circle is laughing at us for tak

colded softly, though her face bore a look

d over my dusty clothes with undisguised contempt. The b

My grandmother, Elena Moretti, descended the stairs. Her sharp eyes

wrist, leaving only my aunt, Mrs. Moretti

like a refugee," Elena said, her voice a quiet, terrifying rumble. "

ere arriving so soon-" my aun

in the corner. "Since your maid cannot even prepare a clean change of clothes for he

o save face. Elena had just drawn a line in the sand: I was untouc

g out at the Chicago skyline. Because of the twenty years of blood and betrayal I had lived thro

stead, she would call the one person whose greed and obsession with

twisting the narrative. *The poor boy is suffering... Isabella's reputat

ld take the bait. She would declare that she was coming to the Moretti estat

I turned away from the window, listening to the sound of my son's quiet breathing from the next r