Domenico had drunk heavily the night before. He had a serious stomach condition, and after every night of heavy drinking, he needed a bowl of specially prepared herbal stomach-healing soup.
For seven years, I'd been the one to brew it for him by hand.
I stood at the stove, watching the liquid roll and simmer inside the clay pot. The kitchen was quiet. One of the compound guards passed the window on his morning patrol, his shadow crossing the glass and disappearing.
This was the last time I would ever make this for him.
I ladled the soup into a thermal flask, set it on a tray, and carried it toward Domenico's study.
The study door was slightly ajar. Inside, I could hear Domenico talking with his Consigliere, Zaccaria Delgado.
I was about to raise my hand and knock when Zaccaria's voice carried through the gap, clear as day.
"Domenico, don't you think you went too far this time? You took back the Matriarch's ring, gave away the necklace, and now you've handed the Starlight gown to Olimpia. Giuliana followed you for seven years. She'd have laid down her life for you. Are you really trying to push her out the door?"
My hand froze. I stood perfectly still.