Dante's voice dropped to a sharp growl. "You want to walk into that room dressed like that? You'd humiliate the entire Ferrante name on purpose?"
"At least change your clothes first. Gianna, would you take her to—"
Dante froze the moment the words left his mouth. When I said nothing, he rushed to explain.
"Serafina, don't misunderstand. Gianna is the only family I have left in this house. I think of her as my own sister. That's why I call her that."
"There is absolutely nothing between us!"
His frantic explanation only made my stomach turn.
I would never forget what I saw in the moments before I died.
Gianna had wept and lied, claiming that my daughter and I had been greedy and eaten cannoli laced with poison by mistake, and that was how we'd died.
Dante hadn't shed a single tear for us. Instead, his face had softened with tenderness as he pulled Gianna into his arms, slipped the clothes from her shoulders, and held her close.
He kissed the tears from her cheeks, murmuring comfort.
"Dead is dead. Even if she hadn't died, I would've had the union annulled in a few days anyway."