"Serafina, is it really you? What are you doing here?"
He strode over and lowered his voice to a hiss.
"If you wanted to see me, you could have sent word through one of the men. Why make a scene in front of everyone?"
"Besides, I told you in my letters not to come back on your own. When the time was right, I would have sent someone to bring you."
I held my daughter tight and stared at him in cold silence.
Five years apart, and Dante looked even more handsome than before. Younger, somehow.
His suit was cut from fabric that cost more than most men earned in a year, the cufflinks heavy gold, monogrammed with the Ferrante crest he'd stolen.
My daughter and I, by contrast, wore clothes so thin and patched they barely held together. The kind of clothes no one in this compound would use for rags.
"Husband, didn't you promise me yourself? You said within three years, you would send someone to bring me back. It's been five."
Dante's expression darkened, though a flicker of panic crossed his eyes.
"Serafina, I will bring you back. But not now. The house is hosting a sit-down for the Capos and their people. Important guests. Take the child and leave. We'll talk later."
He slipped a thick envelope of cash into my hands, expecting me to take the money, walk away, and pretend we had nothing to do with each other.
I smiled coldly, opened the envelope, and turned it upside down. Bills scattered across the stone steps, caught by the wind, drifting toward the shoes of the soldiers flanking the entrance.
"The head of the Ferrante family has done well for himself. And this is how you dismiss the wife who stood by you when you had nothing? A handful of bills?"
My voice carried just far enough for every soldier and household man within earshot to hear every word. Dante's face went darker still.
He clenched his jaw and leaned in close. "What do you want from me? I said I'd bring you back. Can't you just take the child and wait a little longer? Just until tonight—"
I turned away with a cold smile, shifting my daughter in my arms as I walked toward the front doors of the house.
"Our daughter hasn't eaten in three days. I'm afraid she can't wait."
"Tell me, Dante, why are you so desperate to keep your own wife from stepping through the door? Is there something in there you'd rather I not see?"
I knew exactly why Dante didn't want me inside. The private dining room was filled with the most powerful men in the Commission's orbit, and among them sat Rosalia Valenti, wife of the Boss of All Bosses.
Every guest seated comfortably at those tables believed that Gianna Greco, his dead brother's widow, was the rightful lady of the Ferrante household.
A wife appearing out of nowhere was a problem Dante had no idea how to explain.
And that was precisely why I was here. To make sure he couldn't.
Dante stared at me, his face drained of color, scrambling for a way out.
Gianna's eyes darted, and then she stepped forward with a warm smile, reaching for my arm.
"Sister-in-law, what are you saying? You're Dante's wife, which makes you family. You and the child arrived so suddenly that Dante was simply overwhelmed with joy and didn't know what to say. He would never hide anything from you!"
She tried to steer me toward a side room off the main hall.
I pulled my arm free. "You must be the elder sister-in-law."
Gianna's smile froze for a heartbeat before she forced it back into place with a nod. Her fingers drifted to the hollow of her throat, a gesture so practiced it looked like modesty. It wasn't.
In my previous life, I had pitied Gianna for losing her husband so young. I never thought to guard myself against her. So when she led me to that side room and offered me cannoli from a silver tray, I never once suspected her intentions.
I had no idea that the poison in those cannoli was what killed my daughter and me. And the hand that placed it there was Gianna's.
"I think I'll skip the side room. Didn't my husband just mention there's a sit-down going on? My daughter and I are starving. We'll eat there. And while we're at it, my husband can introduce us to everyone."
"Serafina!"
Dante's voice dropped to a sharp growl. "You want to walk into that room dressed like that? You'd humiliate the entire Ferrante name on purpose?"
"At least change your clothes first. Gianna, would you take her to—"
