“She used to be such a wonderful hostess,” she said. “Maybe she can serve drinks. Just until things settle.”
Vincenzo said nothing.
So I bent down and picked up the tray.
I moved through the room, handing out glasses like I belonged nowhere else. A waitress gave me a look—something close to pity.
At the bar, someone whispered, “Is that the first wife?”
Another voice replied, “I heard she poisoned the house… with her dead child’s ashes.”
I kept walking.
Slow. Steady.
They couldn’t take anything more from me.
I had already lost it all.
Let them talk.
Let them laugh at the ghost they thought I had become.
Because soon—
They would remember my name again.
And when they did… it wouldn’t be in whispers.
While I was serving champagne near the garden tables, I tried to melt into the golden light of the lanterns, hoping I’d become invisible to everyone around me. But I wasn’t. I could feel it—every whisper, every glance—burning straight through me like acid on skin.
“Vincenzo and Lena look so good together.”
“She actually fits this world. She moves like she belongs in a mafia family.”
“Their son is so well-behaved. Clearly, she raised him properly.”
“Vincenzo finally chose someone worthy of him.”