Page 20 of The Shadow King's Brother

A pang of pain shoots through me at the thought of my father. One minute, he was here, the next...gone. Like he never was.

I can still feel his presence in this mansion, in Elio’s and my home, where he spent most of his time. He’s in the furniture, in the cigar smell that still lingers—a reminder of those nights he’d have a drink with Don De Luca before heading home to my mom and me.

My mother.Susan Galli.

My brain flips to her without asking permission. The woman who gave birth to me, the woman I’ve been avoiding like the plague for the last year.

We haven’t talked, except for the occasional text or a quick call that always ends badly.

Tthe thought of seeing her and having to speak to her makes me want to run for the hills.

It’s like a fist clenching around my lungs.

The way she handled my father’s death… it hurt. She ignored me for weeks, then reached out for a coffee date, offering nothing but silence when I brought up his name. She was barely involved in the funeral arrangements.

Maybe she doesn’t reach out—because she knows I blame her for not being there for me, or for not handling things will when the world went to shit. Or maybe she doesn’t care.

Perhaps she’s angry with me, or maybe it’s because I remind her of him. Maybe every time she looks at me, she sees my father, his face, his ways, his energy, and she can’t stand it.

Or maybe she’s scared of how much I am like her, that maybe I am just a mirror, reflecting back her own coldness and fears.

I rub my thumb over the tattoo on my wrist, reminding me who I am. I am my father’s daughter.

I am a Galli.And Gallis don’t give up, don’t back down.

I reach for my phone, the cool glass against my palm.

Should I do it?

My hand hovers over the screen, scrolling through the contacts until I stop on one:

Mama.

My fingers tremble as I open our message thread. The last text is from six months ago.

Should I send something? I pull my hand back and put it down again. What do I have to lose? My pulse quickens as I type out a message and press the green send button.

‘Goodnight...’

Small,I know. Like a tiny bridge, still I’m shaking.

I set the phone to silent and close my eyes, but my mind is still buzzing, like a broken record stuck on repeat. Everything feels like too much as always.

And then I crash into a restless, uneasy sleep.

* * *

Morning light filtersthrough the curtains, casting the room in gold. Elio is already gone—he told me last night he had to leave early—but his side of the bed is still warm. He must have left not long ago.

I pull the silk blanket around me, breathing in his scent. Resting my head on the pillow, I take a deep breath before pushing myself up on one elbow. The sun is bright outside. It’s a beautiful day, but I don’t feel it in my soul just yet.

I grab my phone, the weight of last night’s recklessness hitting me like a punch to the gut. Why did I text her? What the hell was I thinking?

Stupid. So stupid.

It doesn’t matter—she won’t answer anyway.

As I swipe through my notifications, a text from my mother catches my eye.Damn it.

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