Page 33 of Beneath the Shadows

“He’s dead,” I say flatly, my gaze locking onto his.

Studying him closely, I search for cracks in his facade.

“That’s not possible. We were just having lunch,” he says, as if trying to convince everyone.

Aunt Domenica, her voice trembling, asks, "Did he say anything before… before he…"

Valentino’s gaze drops to the floor for a moment before he looks back up, a steely resolve in his eyes. "He told me he was proud of me and that he was ready to introduce me as the new Capo," he replies as he steps toward his mother. "I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner."

“You’re here now,” she sobs as she clings to her son.

On the surface, Valentino’s grief appears raw, even genuine, but something feels off. A lingering doubt hangs in the air, though the full picture remains unclear.

Valentino leads his mother to the bedside. Aunt Domenica reaches out to stroke her husband’s cheek. Then, leaning down, she whispers something softly, words meant only for the man she spent her life with.

Seeing Uncle Gio’s lifeless body becomes too much to bear, prompting me to turn away. As I do, my gaze falls on Alessia standing silently behind Valentino. Even with her husband beside her, her gaze lingers on me.

After we say our goodbyes to my uncle, we leave the hospital. My father holds my mother close, and Aunt Domenica stays near Valentino. Alessia walks by my side, but as we reach the parking lot, she hesitates, looking torn. The conflict in her eyes is clear—she wants to stay near me, but she knows her place is with her husband, even if she hates him.

“Antonio,” she says softly. “I have to go with Val.”

“I know.”

Driving out of the parking lot, an ominous thought settles over me.

Something dark is on the horizon, something that will change everything.

Valentino

Uncle Marco and Antonio take their places, standing vigil beside the casket as I escort my mother into the viewing room, her arm linked with mine for support. She carries herself with remarkable poise until her eyes fall on my father’s corpse, her composure crumbles. Tears slip silently down her cheeks as she places a single red rose beside his folded hands, a quiet, final tribute to the life they shared.

Once our immediate family finishes their private viewing, the room is opened to the public. Alessia joins me in the reception line as mourners begin to trickle in, their voices hushed with respect. Among them are representatives from otherFamigliaswho came to pay their respects. Their presence is a reminder of the intricate web of alliances my father held within the community.

Despite the complicated relationship with my father, I understand the importance of keeping up appearances. One by one, guests approach, offering their condolences. I meet each of them with a practiced expression as I accept their gesture of respect.

My father-in-law, Draco, is one of the last through the line. “Your husband was a good man,” he says as he kisses my mother on the cheek. “He’ll be greatly missed.”

She dabs at her tear-filled eyes, unable to find her voice.

Draco turns to me, his eyes sharp. “I’m sorry for your loss,” he offers, extending his hand.

“Thank you.”

“I assume you’ll be stepping into his shoes?” he asks, his tone probing as if testing the waters.

“I will,” I say without hesitation.

“I’m looking forward to a strong alliance under your leadership,” Draco continues.

“Father, discussing business at a viewing seems inappropriate,” Alessia interjects quietly.

I grip her arm, my voice dropping low. “You’d do well to remember your place,” I warn. “Or perhaps you need a lesson on how to behave?”

Alessia’s gaze is steady and defiant, but she wisely bites back her response.

Draco’s lips twitch into a faint smile. “My daughter was never good at minding her place. It’s good to see you using a strong hand with her.”

“I’ll ensure she becomes the model Capo’s wife,” I say with pride.

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