Page 69 of Of Lies and Shadows

“Do you need anything?” I ask. “Do you want to take them down with you?”

It makes sense. He can walk in as the proud father with the twins, and I can trail behind like the help. Which, technically, I am.

He frowns slightly. “Yes. I thought I’d keep them entertained a bit so you’d have time to get ready.”

I glance down at my outfit—a modest white blouse tucked into a long brown skirt. Neat. Clean. Unassuming.

“I am ready.”

He arches a brow. “Are you?”

“My hair is brushed. My blouse is ironed. I’m not wearing makeup because I’m not here to impress anyone.” I meet his eyes. “Why?”

“It’s just…” His expression shifts for a second, something uncertain flickering in the frustration. “It’s not exactly the look of a capo’s wife.”

“Ah,” I say, lifting my chin with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. I clap my hands gently, ushering the children toward the door. “Then I suppose it’s exactly the look I want.”

Lucia and Alessio squeeze past him, chattering excitedly down the corridor. But when I try to follow, Dante steps just slightly to the side, blocking my way, deliberately subtle.

“Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” he hisses under his breath, low and sharp, meant for me alone.

I smile again, even softer now. “You started the war, Dante Forzi. You don’t get to dictate how I fight it.”

The party is exactly what I feared—loud, bright, and crawling with tension, dressed in silk and tailored suits. Everyone smiles too much and laughs too loud, drinking wine like they’re not all here to measure each other’s weaknesses.

I stay close to the twins, one hand always on a shoulder or back. Alessio is surprisingly still, clinging to Dante’s leg like a shadow as he speaks with some men while Lucia fidgets beside me, picking at the tulle of her dress.

“Mermaid?” she whispers, tugging at my sleeve. “I’m hungry.”

“Didn’t you eat some of the little sandwiches?” I ask gently, crouching to eye level.

She wrinkles her nose. “They taste like soap.”

I glance at the buffet table of caviar, smoked salmon, and truffled nonsense. Of course.

“Okay. I’ll get you something else,” I say, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Stay here with Fulvio. Don’t move from his side, alright?”

She nods solemnly, and Fulvio gives a discreet nod as well, subtly shifting closer to her.

I step away from the main room, the noise thinning behind me as I head to the kitchen. The overhead lightsare dimmed in this part of the villa, the clinking of cutlery and occasional voices from staff the only sound. I slip in, avoiding eye contact, and pull open the pantry door in search of plain bread or cheese, something Lucia will eat.

The pantry is dim and quiet, but when I exit, I’m not alone anymore,

My father is there. Too close. His presence hits me like a slap, all tailored suit and rotting menace. I freeze.

“Francesca,” he drawls as if we’re simply catching up. “How good it is to see you. You could have come and hugged your old father hello.”

“Tell me, where’s Mom? Hmm? Oh, that’s right… likely still trying to find a concealer thick enough for her bruises.”

His smile fades. “And how is your new role as a whore?”

I stiffen. His voice is calm, but each word is dipped in venom. “I see the way that man looks at you. You must be very good at what you do. He seems… attached.”

My chest tightens, and for a terrible, flickering moment, I want to believe it. But I force myself to shake my head. “You’re mistaken.”

“No,” he says smoothly, “no, I’m not. And I think… you could become useful again.”

A chill slides down my spine. “What do you mean?”

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