Nonna was old, and her body was fragile even if her spirit was iron. I took every detail of the feast upon myself. The venue, the guest list, the catering, the security. I handled it all.
Two days before the gathering, Giancarlo and Salvatore appeared at the estate gates. They came bearing gifts, as though a box of imported chocolate truffles, the kind I had loved as a child, could serve as absolution. They said they wanted to help with the preparations.
"Seraphina." Giancarlo's voice carried the careful warmth of a man who had rehearsed his contrition. "You haven't returned a single one of my messages. Are you still upset about what happened that night?"
Salvatore stood beside him, arms crossed, jaw tight. "We weren't trying to come down on you. We were looking out for you. In our world, reputation is everything. A woman's honor is the Family's honor. We just didn't want you making mistakes you couldn't take back."