Page 50 of Of Lies and Shadows

Then salvation. A knock at the door.

I don’t wait. “Come in,” I say, my voice tight with relief.

“Busy,” Dante barks at the exact same time.

But the door is already opening.

Bruno steps inside, calm and steady, holding a familiar paper bag with a pharmacy’s green cross printed on the front.

Dante’s eyes zero in on it like a missile.

Before he can speak, I cross the room and take the bag from Bruno, my fingers trembling as I clutch it to my chest. Then I disappear into the bathroom and lock the door behind me.

My breath shudders as I pull out the box with trembling hands. I open the foil, pop the pill into my mouth, and swallow it with a handful of cold tap water.

I stare down at the empty box in my palm. My first instinct is to toss it in the garbage, but no. I flatten it quickly and slip it into the inner belt lining of my skirt. I’ll dispose of it in town.

No evidence. No trace.

When I return, both men are exactly where I left them, locked in a silent standoff, like they’re one breath away from drawing blood.

“I was just talking to mywife, if you don’t mind leaving us,” Dante barks, eyes fixed on Bruno.

But there’s no point in pretending, not here, not withhim. Bruno was in the room with us and the judge. He knows the truth.

“I’m your wife on paper only, Dante. Whore and nanny, remember?” I say, smoothing my skirt with deliberate calm.

“Don’t forget maid,” Bruno adds with a smirk.

I swear I hear Dante’s jaw crack.

“I’m sorry,” I say, stepping between them. “I have to wake the children. But if you need something, Dante, you’re welcome to follow me to the kitchen and say it while I make their breakfast.”

I know he won’t be cruel or crude in front of them.

And yes, I feel guilty using the twins as a shield. But right now, I need protection any way I can get it.

Dante straightens, adjusting his tie with sharp precision.

“That won’t be necessary,” he says coldly. “I’ve assigned a new guard to accompany you and the children. I don’t believe your family and I share the same definition of discipline.”

He throws the words at Bruno like knives.

Bruno grins, slow and deliberate. “And I don’t believe we share the same definition of manhood.”

I roll my eyes at him. Of course he’s provoking. Of course he’s enjoying this. And, of course, it’s about to get worse.

Dante’s voice cuts in, low and lethal. “Do you want to discuss manhood?”

Bruno opens his mouth, clearly about to say something reckless, but I step between them, glaring at both. “No, he doesn’t. And, of course, you’d assign your own guard. They’re your children, and you want them safe. I understandthat.”

Dante’s eyes stay locked on mine. “As well as you.”

I laugh, sharp, bitter, disbelieving.

But then I see his face. The hard set of his jaw. The tension coiled in his shoulders. The quiet conviction in his eyes.

He’s not joking.

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