ella

confession. Beatrice's jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with a venomous

p, rhythmic thud of a wooden can

l but iron-hard

es, clouded with age but missing nothing, swept over Beatrice and Carmella with thinly v

followed my grandmother into her sanctuary. The air in her quarters was

to a faded family portrait on the wall. "Is it just me, or do Carmella and Angelo look exactly alike? They have the exact s

irely innocent, but I saw the exact moment the seed of ruin took root in her mind. In our world, b

a gaudy, gold-trimmed nightmare of a room that screamed of her desperate need to buy class.

suite, Isabella," the priest purred, his smile oily. "Her p

rifice isn't respected in my own home, perhaps the Matriarch would like to personally as

makeup. The threat of the Dark Don's mother was absolute. To invite the wrath of the Moretti fam

g room, waving a gilded invitation. "Five hundred dollars to the parish, Nonna," she bragged. "A private C

ard that would paralyze New York, and more importantly, I knew th

draws federal eyes, Nonna. It violates *Omertà* (the code of silence). The Morettis value discre

s triumphant face, then at my calm, calculating

ob, her face twisting in ugly

Nonna's armchair. I pulled a velvet pouch from my pocket and let the heavy, black onyx beads

hand flying to her

beads into my grandmother's wrinkled hands. "She told me it belongs with the true Matriarch of the Russo bloodline. Wear

silver 'M'. When she finally looked up at me, the pity she once held for h