Page 37 of Beneath the Shadows

Marco steps forward, his gaze meeting mine, steady and unreadable. “I will,” he replies, his voice calm but carrying the weight of unspoken tension.

"Now, you will receive the kiss of brotherhood, sealing your vow to this family," Enzo says.

Marco leans in, kissing me on both cheeks. The gesture is a tradition, a symbolic act that signifies loyalty and unity within the family. As Marco steps back, Enzo concludes the ceremony.

"Valentino, you are now theCapo dei capiofLa Famiglia. Lead with wisdom, strength, and loyalty."

I take my seat on the throne and grip the armrests as each member of the family offers their gesture of loyalty—some with a nod, others a hand over their heart, and a quiet murmur of affirmation.

I settle back into the throne. The feeling of power and control is intoxicating.

Everything is now mine, and I plan to lead with an iron fist. With me in control,La Famigliawill experience power and success like it never has known before.

Alessia

After Valentino stepped into the role of Capo, he assigned Antonio to oversee my personal security—a move that shocked me. Valentino spouted some nonsense about being concerned rival families might try to hurt me to get to him. But I didn’t buy it for a second. He never does anything without an ulterior motive. There’s more to this than concern for my safety, but what exactly? I’m not sure.

Having Antonio around is both difficult and comforting. He’s a reminder of what we once shared, of a past I can’t quite escape, yet his presence still brings an odd sense of safety. Maybe it’s because, despite everything, I trust him more than I should.

Antonio often makes excuses, saying he has other tasks to attend to, leaving Dante to babysit me more often than not. Even when he’s here, Antonio’s different—detached. He follows orders, but there’s no warmth like he’s deliberately avoiding being too close.

But today, Antonio has no choice but to be here. Valentino sent Dante out of town on some business, so Antonio is stuck with the job he’s been avoiding. He’s walking silently next to me as we cross the street to visit Domenica.

Since Giovanni’s passing, Domenica has been drowning in loneliness. Though their marriage was arranged, Giovanni was the great love of her life. I’ve made it a habit to spend a few hours with her each day, hoping my presence might offer some small comfort amidst her grief.

I knock gently on the door, hearing her familiar, faintcome in, before stepping inside. It’s been nearly a month since Giovanni’s death, but sorrow still hangs thick in the air. Domenica sits by the window, where she always is, her gaze distant and unfocused, lost somewhere beyond the glass.

She turns slightly when I enter the room. “Alessia, dear, you didn’t have to come,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, though a small glimmer of appreciation softens her tired eyes.

“I want to be here,” I reply gently, crossing the room to sit beside her. “How are you feeling today?”

She sighs a sound that carries the weight of her heartache. “Every day without him feels like an eternity. I keep expecting him to walk through that door and to hear his voice, but...”

I reach out, taking her hand in mine. “Giovanni was a good man. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

“He was,” Domenica replies, her fingers tightening around mine. “And now, it’s as though a part of me is missing. The house feels so empty without him.”

We sit in silence for a while. The only sound is the soft rustle of the leaves outside. Her pain is palpable and tugs at something deep inside me.

“I brought some of your favorite tea,” I say, trying to offer a small comfort. “Maybe we can sit outside for a bit. It’s a beautiful afternoon.”

A small smile tugs at her lips. “That sounds nice. Thank you.”

As I prepare the tea, the routine feels almost soothing, a brief moment of normalcy in the midst of her grief. The kettle whistles, and when I glance back, I see Domenica holding a photograph of Giovanni, her fingers tracing the edges gently.

“When Giovanni and I first married,” she begins softly, her voice distant with memory, “I was so scared. I didn’t know if we’d ever truly love each other. But he was so patient and kind. Over time, I realized how much he meant to me.”

I pour the tea and bring the cups outside to the patio. Domenica follows me, and we settle in the garden. “Anyone could see how deeply he loved you.”

She nods, tears welling in her eyes. “He did. And I loved him. I don’t know how to move on without him.”

“Take your time,” I reassure her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “You don’t have to rush through this.”

“You’ve been such a comfort,” Domenica says, her voice filled with gratitude. “I know you and Valentino are still finding your way, but don’t take a single day for granted.” Her words catch me off guard. “I know you feel forced into this marriage, but my Gio and I are proof that love will come.”

She has no idea who her son really is—the cruelty that lurks beneath his polished facade, the awful things he’s already done to me. I can’t bring myself to shatter her illusion, to tell her the truth about the man she raised. Instead, I smile and play along. “I’m sure you’re right.”

My phone vibrates on the table, breaking the moment. I glance down at the screen and sigh.

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