My father had lunged forward, his hand striking Nico across the face with such force that his head snapped violently to the side. The sound alone was enough to make several people flinch.
He stood there, chest heaving, eyes blazing with uncontrollable fury. Don Salvatore Valente, the man who had once held the Commission in his grip, who had built the Valente name into something that made other Families lower their voices when they said it. The image of everything I had sacrificed, for this man, for this marriage, for this alliance, seemed to ignite something primal inside him. And now, seeing it all reduced to this humiliation, this betrayal, was more than he could bear.
"She gave up her womb for you!" my father roared. "She gave you status, gave you the Valente name, gave you territory you never could have held on your own, and this is how you repay her?!"
Nico's face flushed red, not from the pain of the slap, but from the humiliation of being struck in front of every capo, associate, and guest in the room. His pride shattered, his composure cracked. I saw his left hand move, the cuff tugged down over his wrist in that old, reflexive way he'd never been able to shed.