Vittorio made me sit down, and a servant came in with a cup of espresso on a small silver tray. He took the seat across from me and spoke gently. "I know it's not easy losing a husband, Serafina. I understand what you're going through. I saw how much you two loved each other, and it hurt me too. Maybe not like it hurt you, but still."
Something inside me stirred, desperate to spill the truth. That Dante was alive, hiding behind Damiano's identity. But for what? Why fake his death? He never loved me. Not once in five years. Everything he did was just duty. A sacrifice to keep the Family's reputation intact. Nothing more.
I was such a fool. I believed the lies. I thought his affection was real. Thought his heart was mine. Turns out, it always belonged to Elena.
Tears welled in my eyes, my breathing shaky.
"I'll give you one of the family properties to live in," Vittorio offered kindly. His thumb moved slowly over a single rosary bead at his wrist, the gesture so habitual it seemed unconscious.
But I didn't want it. I didn't want anything. I just needed to leave and live a life far away from them.