Page 91 of Of Lies and Shadows

By the time we get back from the mall and pick up the kids from school, the sun is casting a golden hue over the villa’s stone façade. Bruno parks the car near the courtyard, and I stare out at the front door for a moment too long, dread curling in my stomach.

The bags in the trunk are full. Dance shoes and tights for Lucia, a fencing starter kit for Alessio, and a few things they didn’t need but would squeal over anyway.

As soon as we exit the car, Alessio starts bouncing.

“Can I try my kit?”

“Do you have homework?”

“No,” he replies quickly.

“Yes, we do. You are lying,” Lucia replies and gets the stinky eye from her brother.

I shake my head. “Nice try. Do your homework, and I’ll come help you try your kit later. We can go and chase your dad.”

His eyes light up, and he runs up the stairs and disappears into the house.

“Hey, wait for me!” Lucia shouts behind him.

I chuckle and turn to pick up the bags.

“Need help?” Bruno asks.

I shake my head.

He slams the trunk closed, glancing at me with something that looks a lot like worry. “You sure you’re okay?”

No. “I’m fine.”

His mouth twists like he wants to argue, but he lets it go. “You going to talk to him?”

I nod. “I need to.”

“Do you want me to?—”

“No. Lord, no. Go to the guest house, and I'll message you later.”

He looks like he might say something else, then just gives a short nod and heads around the side of the house toward the guest quarters. I watch him until he disappears from view, then steel myself and walk through the front door.

The villa is quiet when I step inside. The scent of lemon polish and old wood greets me like a familiar lullaby. It’s strange how this place has become something like home. Not because of comfort or belonging but because it’s the only place where the children are.

Where my parents’ house was all suffocation and scrutiny, this one feels oddly like breathing. And it’s unsettling, knowing the circumstances that brought me here and made me stay.

I drop the shopping bags by the stairs and square my shoulders. Best to rip the band-aid off now.

Dante’s office door is closed, the same heavy oak barrier that has guarded too many battles. I knock once, my palm sweatyagainst the wood. I have no idea which version of him I’ll find—the cold strategist, the cruel avenger… or the man who kissed me like I was salvation.

“Come in.”

He’s at his desk, papers spread around him, but he’s not reading them. His gaze lifts to mine with a flicker of something I can’t place, then shutters completely. A wall slams back into place. Fulvio is sitting across from him, his expression unreadable except for the faintest trace of a glare when he sees me.

Ah. So that’s how today is going.

Dante leans back in his chair and offers nothing but a dry “Francesca,” like I’m just another footnote in a long, tiring day.

I glance at Fulvio. “I was hoping to speak to you. Alone.”

Dante’s eyes narrow just slightly before he turns to Fulvio. “We’ll continue this later.”

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