Page 74 of Of Lies and Shadows

If he dies… they’re mine.

“I won’t let it come to that,” I say finally, steadying my voice. “I’ll protect them.”

He nods once. “I know you will.”

Then he turns to leave, the door creaking softly as he opens it.

But before he steps out, he glances back at me. Just once.

“I’m sorry,” he says so quietly I almost don’t hear it.

Then he’s gone.

And I’m left sitting in the silence, staring at the crack of light spilling through the door he left open.

My heart is breaking and healing at the same time.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but tonight, for the first time in weeks, I don’t feel entirely alone.

Chapter Sixteen

Dante

I’m a man on a mission. Well,missions, if I’m being honest.

The first is simple: destroy Gianni Mori.

Not Don Salvatore. Not yet. No, the real rot sits closer to the bone. Gianni Mori, the man who calls himself Francesca’s father. The man who sold her body and spirit to further his own ambitions. The man who threatened not only my life but also my son's. Who dared to plot behind my back while standing under my roof.

That kind of betrayal doesn’t deserve a bullet. It deserves slow erosion. Systematic collapse. I want to watch him unravel piece by piece until he knows what it feels like to be helpless, to beg, to lose.

The second: figure out what the fuck to do about Francesca.

My wife in name. A ghost in my halls. A woman who somehow, despite everything, continues to claw at the inside of my chest like a splinter I can’t remove.

She’s polite now. Distant. Beautiful in a way that feels unreachable. And I don’t know what the fuck to do with the part of me that doesn’t want revenge anymore.

That part wants to rewrite the ending. That part wants to be worthy of her, but I’m still Forzi. Still soaked in blood and driven by pride, and she’s still looking at me like I’m the villain in her story.

Hell, maybe I am, but even villains have limits, and mine begin and end with her.

When I step into the office, Vito’s already there, sprawled out on the sofa like he owns the place.

“So, the party?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Kind of a bust. No blood, no screaming, no chairs thrown. Very disappointing.”

I settle behind my desk, loosening my cuffs. “Agree to disagree. I found out something important.”

He smirks. “What? That catered finger food isn’t your thing?”

“That my wife is completely committed to my family,” I say, watching his face closely.

He blinks. “Isn’t she supposed to be?”

Right. Even Vito doesn’t know the full scope of the clusterfuck this marriage really is.

“Well,” I add dryly, “the kids, technically. But I’ll take it.”

He leans forward. “You’ve got that look. What else?”

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