I entered the grand ballroom with Nina at my side, her pregnancy now unmistakable beneath the silk gown chosen by my staff. Conversations dipped as we passed. Eyes followed. Whispers moved like currents beneath calm water. I ignored all of it, my expression locked into the neutral mask I’d worn since becoming Don.
Inside, though, every instinct was on edge.
Something was wrong.
I didn’t release Nina’s hand until my grandfather made his entrance.
Patriarch Sebia commanded the room without effort. He always had. He wasn’t just the head of the famiglia—he was its foundation. A man who had built an empire with patience, discipline, and fear, yet had always treated me with a measured warmth he rarely extended beyond blood.
His gaze found mine immediately.
“Where is Avery?” he asked, without preamble.
The question hit harder than I expected.
I swallowed, keeping my voice level. “She’s occupied,” I replied smoothly. “She wanted to prepare something meaningful for your birthday. She’ll arrive later.”
The words sounded convincing. Even to my own ears.
Sebia studied me in silence, his eyes sharp, searching for cracks. The weight of that scrutiny made my chest tighten—but he said nothing more.