Chapter 5
Angelo ordered everyone out of the courtyard.
No one argued.
Not even the capos.
The guests disappeared through the side doors, carrying whispers with them.
Milena stayed.
So did I.
So did Luke.
Carlo sat near the fountain with a cloth pressed to his cheek.
Angelo stood in the center of the patio, holding the photograph and his father’s letter.
The broken plate remained at his feet.
Luke kept staring at the food on the ground.
I knew that look.
It was not hunger.
It was shame.
I knelt in front of him.
“Look at me,” I whispered.
He did.
“You did nothing wrong.”
His eyes filled.
“She called me a stray.”
My throat closed.
Before I could answer, Angelo stepped closer.
“No,” he said quietly. “She called you what she feared.”
Luke looked at him.
Angelo crouched, careful, like he knew he had no right to touch him yet.
“My name is Angelo,” he said. “And I owe you an apology.”
Milena scoffed.
“He owes you nothing.”
Angelo stood.
“I said leave.”
She stared at him.
“You would throw your mother out for them?”
“For what you did,” he said.
Her expression changed.
For the first time, fear showed.
Real fear.
“Angelo,” she said softly. “You do not understand what I protected you from.”
I laughed once.
I hated how bitter it sounded.
“You protected him from his child?”
Milena turned toward me.
“You were never going to survive this world.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But I survived you.”
Her eyes sharpened.
Angelo looked at one of the men in suits.
“Bring my lawyer.”
Milena’s head snapped toward him.
“At this hour?”
“Now.”
The man nodded and left.
Milena stepped closer to Angelo.
“You open this door, you cannot close it.”
Angelo looked at Luke.
Then at me.
May you like
His voice was quiet.
“I should have opened it ten years ago.”
