I accepted it without asking for details. On the way back through the empty streets, I had already begun cutting off every connection. Everything from the past had become invalid to me. The woman who had waited, who had hoped, who had believed in the sanctity of blood oaths—she was already dead.
The next evening, I still attended the Family's formal banquet.
The Ashford estate rose from the hills like a monument to old money and older sins. Inside, the great hall was brightly lit by crystal chandeliers that had witnessed three generations of deals, betrayals, and blood spilled on marble floors. Everyone smiled, glasses raised in toasts that meant nothing, like a carefully rehearsed play where every actor knew their lines but none believed them.
Giorgio spotted me in the crowd and walked over immediately, his expression so natural it made me sick. He moved through the gathering like a prince among his subjects—tailored suit, perfect posture, the easy confidence of a man who had never questioned his place in this world.
"We're meeting important people tonight," he said, his voice low, meant only for me. "Representatives from three Families. Don't be late."