Page 62 of Till Death Do Us Part

It’s a beautiful funeral, all being said.

A slew of speeches, echoes of weeping, and glorious music.

The priest speaks softly, promising a life after death.

But through it all, my anger continues to rise.

It’s inappropriate and beyond ridiculous; yet I can’t stop the anger burning inside of me.

My father would be so disappointed in me.

But he’s dead.

So what does it matter?

Sofia keeps a hold of my hand through it all, never letting her grip relent as the tears stream over her face. Rosa and Elisa hug each other close, their eyes red and puffy as they struggle to keep themselves together. Antonio remains beside me, looking bored.

The only person I don’t see as I move my gaze over the church is the one person I want to see. Leonardo. When he dropped me off at the penthouse, I’d expected him to come inside—to offer some consolation—but nothing. He got out of the car, left me with Nico, and stalked out of the garage without another word.

Maybe it’s for the best, though. It’s not as if we can ever have anything real. Even if I ran from Antonio, he can’t live a life in hiding from the Italians all because I broke a contract.

They’re his friends.

His family.

I’m just the girl he fucked a handful of times.

The service wraps up, and we stand to leave. My eyes linger on the casket for a long beat, my heart thundering against my chest as Sofia pulls on my hand. I let her pull me away, my feet dragging along the floor.

“What do we do now?” Rosa asks the moment we stop outside. Her tears have finally dried, but her glassy eyes are haunting as they watch Sofia, waiting for her to answer. It makes sense. She’s the oldest. She’s the one who picked up the pieces when our mum left.

She’s the closest thing we’ve had to a mother our whole lives.

She has to know the answers.

But when I turn to face her, my hands clench into fists at my side at the lost expression etched into her features and the way she lifts her shoulder. She looks childlike as her eyes sink, her gaze falling to the asphalt.

“You have to tell us,” Rosa pleads, her voice so raw the sound will haunt me forever as she pleads with our eldest sister. “Please, Sofia, you have to know. We need you to tell us what we do.”

Sofia stays silent, the lack of answer more telling than any words she could find.

She doesn’t know . . . and ifshedoesn’t know, then we’re truly fucked.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Apartyreinsinthe nightclub we’ve been dragged to. A nightclub for a wake. Because where else would you host one? I guess I can understand. It’s the only place large enough to house all the men and women that poured into that church to pay their respects and say goodbye to Papá.

“Hey, girl,” Felicity says, squeezing my forearm gently. I haven’t seen her since the mansion was bombed, with her being busy in her new job, though we have kept in touch through text. Thankfully, Margo and her were both sent to work for Antonio’s uncle until the mansion is back up and running. “How are you doing?”

“Truthfully? I don’t know,” I tell her, taking a sip of the wine Rosa forced in my hand earlier. “I’m supposed to be sad, right?”

“But you aren’t?” she asks, tilting her head and watching me with curious eyes.

“No, I am, I think. But it’s blanketed in rage. I’m so angry, Felicity. All the time.”

“That makes sense, Pips,” she tells me. “There’s no right or wrong way to grieve. You loved your father, but he also lied to you and left you with no answers. You’re allowed to be angry at him. You’re allowed to scream at the world and tell it to fuck off.”

“It’s not just him, though.”

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