ella

eum of memories, every photograph on the wall a fresh stab of grief. Dante stood beside me,

yes were tracking Valentina as she looked at my father's old portraits. The question was laced with suspicion

ge bond," I repli

man, Bella. An honorable associate of the family. I am so sorry for your loss."

so bitter it t

mask of a grieving, supportive husband. "Of

t version of myself, and let the lies wash over me. This house wasn't just the place

t a small, upscale Italian restaurant in the city, a place the Morettis had owned for

I realized with a sickening lurch that the stories Dante had told me about his childhood, the anecdotes I thought were special, intimate p

nown Dante since he was a b

sked, then smiled at Valentina. "And t

" Valentina said

remembered her favorite dish for over a decade.

emed to notice my silence. "

attention a reluctant afterthoug

" I said quietly. "My s

false concern. "You have t

ng, nervous busboy, his hands trembling, stumbled. A tureen of stea

d in a split secon

but towards Valentina. He threw his body in front of hers, shielding her

left e

hocking pain. I cried out, pulling my arm back, staring in

r Valentina, his hands checking her face, her ar

nt end. Then, his eyes flickered to me. It wasn't a look of concern. It was an

foolish hope died. He would let me burn to keep her safe. H

e edges of my vision going dark. The last thing I saw before I fainted was Dante's face, hi

ur of voices. I was in a hospital room. Dante and Val

ou're awake. You have some nasty second-degree bur

y given the shock..." Her voice trailed off, her expression turning to one of deep sym

n the air, a per

ity, the perfect, heartbreaking exc

ice raspy. "Don't tell my husband. Not yet. The shock... I can't bear

f pity for the poor, tragic wife.

the city. Away from him. And he, consumed by a flicker of guilt, would let me go. He would never know tha