My daughter and I, by contrast, wore clothes so thin and patched they barely held together. The kind of clothes no one in this compound would use for rags.
"Husband, didn't you promise me yourself? You said within three years, you would send someone to bring me back. It's been five."
Dante's expression darkened, though a flicker of panic crossed his eyes.
"Serafina, I will bring you back. But not now. The house is hosting a sit-down for the Capos and their people. Important guests. Take the child and leave. We'll talk later."
He slipped a thick envelope of cash into my hands, expecting me to take the money, walk away, and pretend we had nothing to do with each other.
I smiled coldly, opened the envelope, and turned it upside down. Bills scattered across the stone steps, caught by the wind, drifting toward the shoes of the soldiers flanking the entrance.
"The head of the Ferrante family has done well for himself. And this is how you dismiss the wife who stood by you when you had nothing? A handful of bills?"
My voice carried just far enough for every soldier and household man within earshot to hear every word. Dante's face went darker still.