And then the door creaks open again, letting Bruno in.
The moment I see him, something inside me cracks. Asob tears free from my throat before I can stop it, raw and desperate.
His eyes find mine instantly. Full of empathy. Of sorrow. And tenderness I didn’t realize I was starving for.
It’s like air after drowning. A single island in a sea of hatred.
I see Dante’s head turn sharply at the sound. See his eyes shift from me to Bruno—and then darken with something lethal… murderous.
The temperature in the room drops like a stone.
But Bruno doesn’t look away from me, and for one breath, one heartbeat, I let myself believe that at least one person still sees me as worth saving.
The judge clears his throat, pulling the room’s attention back to him.
“We are here today to adjudicate accusations of espionage, betrayal, and conspiracy within a criminal organization against another famiglia,” Judge Rizzo announces clearly. His voice is deep and unwavering. “Punishable, traditionally, by death.”
My stomach twists violently.
Salvatore lifts a hand almost lazily. “Naturally, we expect?—”
“Don Salvatore,” Rizzo interrupts coldly, “you are not presiding here. I am. And Mr. Forzi has already made his request known.”
He gestures to Dante without looking.
Dante steps forward, his voice like a gunshot. “Marriage.” The word falls heavy and brutal.
My father shrugs, disinterested. “Whatever you decide.I won’t fight it.”
Not even a second thought. Not even a shred of loyalty to his own daughter.
Just like that… discarded.
I straighten my spine, something hard and broken stitching me together.
The judge turns to me, his face unreadable.
“Miss Mori,” he says quietly. “You have the right to speak before I pronounce judgment. What do you have to say for yourself?”
My throat feels raw. My body trembles, but I lift my chin. They will not see me break down.
“I’ll marry him,” I say. “But I want it written into the marriage contract exactly what Mr. Forzi said.”
The room goes still… deadly still.
I look straight at the judge, ignoring the ripple of disbelief, ignoring the way my father mutters a curse under his breath.
“He said I would be his nanny. His maid. His whore. Nothing more. I want this to be added to my obligation.”
Even Salvatore shifts uncomfortably, and my father looks stunned.
And for the first time since I entered the room, Dante doesn’t look hateful. He looks confused. A crack in his stone-cold mask.
The judge leans back slowly in his chair.
“Miss Mori… I don’t think it’s wise to put that kind of language into a binding legal document.”
“I want to,” I say, more firmly now. “It’s important.”