In my previous life, I had believed them. Both of them. Their devotion had seemed so deep, so absolute, that I let myself trust it the way a child trusts the ground beneath her feet. I had thought: these are the men who were promised to me in blood. Nonna will be safe. The Genovese name will endure. We are oath-bound since youth, and oaths do not break.
I did not learn the truth until the day I died. That devotion could be performed. That a blood oath could be spoken with a lying tongue. That the men who swore to protect me had rehearsed their affection the way actors rehearse lines, and the woman who had coached them stood smiling in the wings.
I opened my mouth to refuse them both.
Rosalia spoke first.
"Seraphina." Her voice was small, trembling, perfectly calibrated. "Why did you tell people I was spreading dirty rumors about you? Now everyone is attacking me online." She held her phone out, the screen's blue light catching the tears she had summoned to the corners of her eyes.