The Mafia Widow's Revenge

, his presence fading into the cold stone of his tomb. My knees ached from kneeling on the cold ground

ut, just as he always did, and gently pull me into his arms, lulling me to sleep like before. But the silence was deafening, and the cold stone ben

ng me by the shoulder. But,

, his voice firm yet laced with th

to lay my hu

n and familiar. That simple embrace stirred a distant memory-the first time he had ever hugged me, on the day my mother di

sky hung heavy with unrelenting gray, as i

wasn't the forever he had promised me. There were no more whispered dreams of growing old together, no more late-ni

reassuringly, as if he could read my thou

w him-Dan

ther. Dante had always been my husband's right-hand man, the one who knew every corner of his empire-the empire I had deliberately

dressing me the same way he a

ead, I saw something else. Not sorrow, not the heavy weight of loss I carried, bu

ontinued, his voice steady. "Would you like t

ling thought and gave a quick nod. Whate

close by," he said before turning and walking

-length pencil dress I wore, though I didn't bo

on, followed by a few others. I acknowledged them with qu

I spot

d in a tailored black suit that clung to his broad shoulders and lean frame with effortless precision, he moved with an air of quiet authority. His dark hair was slicked back, not a strand out of place, emphasizing the sharp cut of his jaw. But it was his eyes

de me, perhaps sensing my unea

smooth yet measured. "My deepest condolences for

dded, his tone devoid of warmth. "Once aga

e, an unsettling current that forced me to meet his gaze. Cold, calculating eyes locked onto mine, a flicker of something unreadable pa

as, extending my hand toward him instead-anythin

expression unreadable. Without another word, he turned and walked away, his strides unhurried, con

th Mr. Adrian Deluca," Dante murmur

n slipped out befo

Then, finally, he spoke. "Because he was your husband's swo

ing me to the bone. My breath caught in m

ust met my hus