Suppressing the growing sense of unease in his chest, Dominic stepped into a corridor off the main hall, pulled out his phone, and dialed her number. His back was to the room, but Marco stood six feet away, watching without appearing to watch.
"The number you dialed is unavailable..."
He redialed. Again and again. The same mechanical message echoed back each time, and with each repetition, the stillness in his jaw tightened by a fraction.
And then, a courier walked into the banquet hall.
He delivered three packages, each addressed from Seraphina. The courier looked uncomfortable surrounded by so many hard-eyed men in expensive suits, and he left quickly.
Under the curious gaze of everyone present, Salvatore smiled warmly as he opened the first gift.
Inside was an embroidered silk tapestry, a vivid and intricate rendering of the Valente family crest interwoven with a traditional blessing motif. Every stitch precise. Every thread deliberate.
It was clearly something Seraphina had poured months of effort into, hand-stitched with care and reverence. The kind of gift that spoke of loyalty so deep it lived in the hands.
Moved to tears, the old Don gently opened the second gift.