Their silence was its own verdict.
It did not matter.
Soon, I would vanish from their sight entirely.
"Elena," Silvia called again, her tone dripping with manufactured patience. "This may be the last time anyone in this Family extends you the courtesy of waiting."
I raised my head slowly, schooling my features into stillness. When I spoke, my voice emerged steadier than the tremor in my chest.
"If this gathering exists solely to remind me of my failures in punctuality, then I fail to see what makes it worth my attendance."
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Several sharp intakes of breath cut through the silence, but Silvia recovered with the speed of someone who had rehearsed every possible outcome.
"Perhaps you should spend less time nursing your resentments in the shadows," she said, her smile never wavering, "and more time proving you possess any value to this Family at all."
I did not grant her the satisfaction of my attention. Instead, my gaze drifted to the man standing at her side.
Giorgio Corleone.