"Dio mio. And she's supposed to be the one restoring the Family's honor?"
"What do you expect? No mother, no father, no one to teach her rispetto. A girl raised without discipline ends up exactly like this."
"They said she slept her way into La Rete's good graces. Looks like the rumors were true."
"The Genovese Family is truly finished. They let their sole heir become some man's kept woman. A puttana parading in silk."
I had endured such ridicule twice before, in the life I'd already lived. The first time was at my blood-bound union ceremony.
Giancarlo had walked out in front of every Boss, every Caporegime, every wife and widow in Riviera City. He abandoned the alliance for Rosalia, a street orphan with no blood, no name, no standing. The dishonor struck my Nonna like a bullet to the chest. She collapsed at the altar where the oaths should have been sworn, and she never rose again. The Genovese name became a punchline whispered in every social club and back room from the waterfront to the old quarter.