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I need to let the old me fade, piece by piece, and embrace this new image so my mother and I can stay alive and protected.

By the week’s end, I’m standing on the balcony observing the Benedetti estate. Windows glow with golden warmth. The low murmurs and laughter from a neighboring family drift on the breeze.

This is my world now. I lean against the railing and stare into the dark. All of it—the secrets, the danger, the cunning and hard-edged resilience—encases me like the threads of a second skin.

I’m becoming something entirely new here.

The thought should scare me.

But it doesn’t.

Somewhere, far off, a tiny part of me flinches. The old me would scoff at playing housewife in this treacherous world. But she’s distant, watching from behind the glass cage I’ve locked her in.

And that’s the most terrifying part of all.

Chapter 14

Enzo

Today’s a big day for the mafia.

I stand in the great hall of the Benedetti villa, surrounded by marble walls with a menacing gleam.

Above us, chandeliers shine like melted gold, every crystal drop paid for in blood. My brother’s blood, the blood of those before him, and most assuredly mine in the future.

Leather chairs line the room like thrones for men who fancy themselves gods. There’s been a high turnover these last two years. As new dons have risen to power, Gabi’s found excuses to oust the aged leaders, one by one, under the guise of the family needing fresh ideas and new blood.

The Benedetti tension makes today’s tradition seem even more significant than in the past.

Every year, the Padrino hosts a dinner in which he invites loyal men in the government to dine with him. It’s time to see the contacts Gabi’s been working on since he assumed power. The faces that show up here today will either strengthen the dons’ belief in him or create a rift that could lead to a civil war.

Hours crawl past as the dons shuffle in and out of Gabi’s office.

The oak doors muffle their voices. Occasionally, those doors will open and release a puff of smoke.

He’s spending time talking to everybody, and I’m out here waiting my turn.

The only thing I hate more than waiting is the politics of these events. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t challenge Gabi Jr. for the title of Padrino when some dons put up their support for me. I’m a fighter. A fighter knows when to strike and when to feint, but this kind of patience feels like drowning with a stone tied to your neck. It winds me up. I sit still, my fingers tapping against my thigh. It’s an old habit I acquired during stakeouts, nights where pacing would give away my position.

Finally, Vito steps out to call my name and give me the summons. The oak doors creak wide.

Inside, Gabi lounges behind a desk big enough to bury a man, his tailored suit hugging his broad frame. Rings of dons recline against the walls, their glasses heavy with whiskey, smoke from their cigars curling upward in lazy spirals.

Theater, all of it. A performance I’m not sure I can stomach.

“Enzo.” Gabi’s smile cuts like a blade. “Our star arrives. Step forward, brother.”

I do as he bids, my shoulders squared, my gaze sweeping the room.

He rises slowly, arrogance rolling off him as he stares directly at me. “Do you consider me your Padrino?”

My pulse kicks up. “Yes.”

That would’ve probably been enough for me to fail if this was a polygraph test.

“Then you know how important the dinner is to me. It must end in success, no?”

The words are said in a matter-of-fact tone…but there’s that glint in his eyes that prove he’s setting a trap. “Of course.”