a's per

phina tilted her head slightly to receive his kiss. Now, when I tried to pull Angelo away before they noticed, it was t

led him across the street toward us. Damian followe

r side of the sidewalk, I h

-while deliberately keeping her distance to avoid us. "Poor child. You must have suffered a lot out there with your mother." She turned to Damian, he

nched with a hint of annoyance, as if we were nothing

fina, they were a revelation. I saw a subtle, triumphant shift in her eyes. She realized that Damian didn't c

-year-old hand tightly, turned around, and disap

was filled with the scent of old leather, cigar smoke, and an unspoken tension. Before Ma

one in our circle is laughing at us for taking in a woman abandoned by

pped, but her face showed more wearines

dusty silk dress-the one I wore in Blackwater Creek, now wrinkled and stained-wi

ed the room's clatter. My grandmother, Elena Moretti, came down the stairs. Her sharp

ng only my aunt, old Mrs. Moretti,

ned looking like a refugee." Elena's voice was low and imposing. "A

arrived so quickly-" my aunt

the corner. "Since your maid can't even do something as simple as preparing clean clothes for

her anger and nod in compliance. Elena had just drawn a red line in th

ng at the Chicago skyline. With the intuition honed over those two decades of bloodshed, I kne

Instead, she would call that greedy, paranoid woman obsessed with t

wisting the truth. The poor child is suffering... Isabella's reputation will

surely take the bait. She will bypass Damian's authority and announce directl

proxy. I turned away from the window, listening to my son's steady breathing in the next room.