Page 76 of Of Lies and Shadows

Doesn’t it?

The question doesn’t need to be said out loud; I hear it anyway, louder than if he’d shouted it. I shake my head, more at myself than at him.

“Okay, if you say so.” He pushes off the doorframe. “I’ll be down at the warehouse if you need me. Pietro’s hanging around too. Says he wants a word with you about the loan business.”

“Send him in.” I wave him off.

He disappears, and I sit there a moment longer, the quiet pressing in.

Love…

How stupid.

How messy.

How fuckingreal.

I leave not long after my meeting with Pietro. The loan business is thriving, and the money is good.

The drive home is quiet, the streets bright for once. I look at the clock, and I’ll be getting home just after the twins. That’s a first.

I can't help but smile at the thought of walking in totheir laughter, their joy, and the woman who’s keeping them innocent for as long as she can. I need to tell her how much I appreciate this.

When I walk in, I expect the usual laughter and the sound of their little feet running, but all I get is silence.

I frown as I go down the corridor and see Alessio sitting at the kitchen table, scowling at the notebook in front of him.

I raise an eyebrow in interrogation, and he pouts.

“I’m grounded.”

My lip quivers, but I try my best to stay stoic, and I'm about to ask why when I hear a sniffle. A small, broken sound that makes my jaw tighten.

I follow the sound on instinct, like a wire pulled tight in my chest. I round the corner just as I see Lucia curled into Francesca’s chest, clutching her favorite plush seahorse. Her cheeks are blotchy, her lip wobbling.

I feel something inside me snap.

“Who made her cry?” I demand, stepping into the room like a storm. “Tell me the boy’s name. I’ll take him into the woods where no one can hear him scream?—”

Francesca looks up at me with an expression I can’t quite read, somewhere between calm and exasperated. “She had a little tiff with a classmate. Nothing serious.”

“What’s his name?” I ask, already imagining the boy’s face pressed against a brick wall.

“She’s five, Dante,” she replies with a sigh that says she’s already tired of me. “And so is he. It wasn’t cruel; it was clumsy. He clearly likes her and doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

“He made her cry,” I growl. “Name.”

“Dante.” Her tone sharpens. “You’re clearly taking this very well.” She adjusts Lucia in her arms, pressing a kiss to her curls, and shoots me a sideways glance. “Maybe, just maybe… try empathy.”

I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t worry,” she mutters. “Your son already took care of it. That boy’s missing most of his baby teeth now.”

Despite myself, I grin. “And you grounded him for defending his sister?”

“This isn’t—” She cuts herself off, then sighs. “Never mind. You’re right. They’re your children, after all. I’ll go speak to the boy’s parents. Remind them who you are.”

But something shifts in her face as she says it—her warmth cooling into distance, her eyes turning guarded. That look.

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