She was trembling, tears streaming down her face. She tucked her hair behind her left ear with a slow, deliberate motion, and when she spoke, her voice cracked in exactly the right places. "It's my fault. I never should have come to you for help. If I weren't so afraid my baby would grow up without a father, I'd never have degraded myself like this!" She turned her wet eyes toward the men gathered in the doorway, making sure every one of them could see. "Donna Rossetti, if you didn't want me and Tomasso to register the marriage and bring the baby into the Family name, then why did you pretend to agree and then turn around and try to force us out? Hitting me was one thing. But throwing a newborn on the floor?"
Her shrill sobs and accusations sent a chill through the room. The silence that followed was the particular silence of made men recalculating. I could feel it. The shift. The weight of judgment settling onto me like a physical thing, pressing the air from my lungs.
Everyone turned to look at me. "Giovanna, you..."
"Giovanna!"
Tomasso walked toward me with the baby in his arms and slapped me across the face.