Extra Epilogue
RAFFAELE
“She thinks she’s untouchable because her husband is the Deputy Mayor,” Domenico growled.
My eyes narrowed, and my fingers tapped a steady rhythm on my thigh. “Donna stupida.”
No one was untouchable when they made my baby girl cry. Especially not the wife of a dirty politician.
Viola had worked hard to earn a solo in the first-grade concert, and she’d done it all on her own.
We’d been very clear with the school that there would be no repercussions for treating our kids just like everyone else.
We wanted them to learn the value of hard work, not have everything handed to them because the teachers and principal were afraid of their family.
And we’d specifically chosen a school who catered to children of powerful parents so that her situation wasn’t unique.
When one of the boys had been given a failing grade in a class, Vivienne and I made an appointment with the teacher and made sure she knew we trusted her judgement and asked how we could help Guiseppe at home to get his grade up.
After that, they seemed to believe that I was serious when I said there would be no threats from the Family.
So, when Viola had come running home to tell us about her solo, we’d been even more proud of her.
However, today, she’d been crying her little eyes out when she walked through the door, ripping my heart right out of my chest. Then she claimed she no longer wanted to sing in the concert and wouldn’t tell us why.
Vivienne and I had called Ms. Brooks, Viola’s music teacher, to see if she knew what had happened.
“Apparently,” Ms. Brooks sighed, “A few students accused Viola of stealing the solo from another student. They said she hadn’t earned her solo and only got it because I was afraid of her dad.”
“What?” Vivienne exclaimed. “That’s ridiculous!”
“I know,” Ms. Brooks murmured. “But children can be mean, and at this age, they struggle to differentiate rumors from truth.”
“Who started the rumor?” I demanded.
“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you that. Viola’s friend told me at lunch, though.
So during class, I made it very clear that no one in class had received special treatment.
Later, I asked the nurse to call the other child to their office so I could speak with them without the other students knowing what it was about.
They were very upset about the whole situation.
They genuinely believed the rumor because it was one of their parents who’d told them this. ”
“Cazzo,” I cursed under my breath, earning a glare from my wife.
“I reiterated what I’d said in class, while trying not to call their parent a liar, but I’m not sure they completely believed me.
Which is understandable when it’s their teacher versus their parents.
And there’s nothing I can do to change what happens at home.
The saddest part is that Viola was friends with this student, so now there is a wedge between them.
Viola is so sweet and soft-hearted, I think she felt worse about her friend being hurt by not getting the solo than the accusations. ”
Vivienne sighed. “That’s why she doesn’t want to do the concert. Not because she feels she hasn’t earned the part, but because she doesn’t want her friend to be sad over not getting the solo.”
“I think so,” Ms. Brooks agreed. “I hope we can convince her not to give up the part. She worked hard for it.”
“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen,” I assured her firmly.
After hanging up, Vivienne jumped to her feet and paced for a few minutes, steam practically coming out of her ears.
“It has to be Ava’s mom. She made a snide remark about Viola’s family connections during a class party last week, but I didn’t want to make a big deal about it and have our daughter be self-conscious.
So, I addressed it in a roundabout way. But then the other day, she mentioned that Ava had been sad when the special parts were assigned.
And Derinda is the stereotypical stage mom.
She pushes Ava hard and flips out when she’s passed over for anything.
But I didn’t think she would stoop so low as to attack a seven-year-old about a school concert! ”
Before I could comment, Vivienne had marched out of the room, mumbling about comforting Viola.
Domenico had slipped into the room, tossed a file on my desk, then dropped onto a chair in the corner.
The folder contained information on the Fultons. Derinda, her husband, and their daughter.
I’d already know about some of Ned’s dirty dealings, but it turned out that he was entrenched in even more shit than I realized.
Since I owned the mayor, Ned had only been on the periphery of my radar.
But he was still a public figure, which likely accounted for his wife’s confidence that I couldn’t touch him. It was an ignorant assumption.
“Tell Marco to leak Fulton’s association with the drug kingpin to the mayor. Let him take the credit for the discovery, as long as he fires that asshole. Then I want him on everyone’s blacklist so the only job he can get is at a fucking fast-food restaurant.”
Domenico nodded and silently exited the room. Now, I had to find a way to convince my little girl to be strong and take what she’d earned, even if it meant making her friend a little sad. Children were resilient.
When I walked out of my office, I saw Vivienne at the bottom of the large staircase, whispering with Dante, the Family’s top assassin.
As I approached, her words tipped up the corners of my lips.
“I’m not saying we should kill her…I’m just saying if she slipped and broke her jaw on the sidewalk, I wouldn’t send flowers.”
Dante looked over her head and gave me a “what do I do?” look.
Smiling, I shook my head in exasperation and slipped my arm around my wife’s waist.
“Sanguinaria,” I teased as I tilted my head, giving Dante permission to run away. He did so with a relieved expression.
Vivienne huffed. “I am not bloodthirsty. I’m…I’m…”
“A mamma protecting her bambina,” I murmured, brushing a kiss over her temple. “I was going to handle this in a more diplomatic way, but if you want her buried in a vineyard tonight, I will gladly make that happen.”
Vivienne mumbled grumpily as she turned her face into my chest. “No. Go the route that doesn’t tie back to us. I don’t want the parents of our children’s friends to fear us.”
“Whatever you want, cara. You know I would do anything for you.”
“I know,” she whispered, tilting her head back to stare up at me with a sweet smile. “Ti amo, Rafa.”
“Ti amo più della vita, cara.” I rubbed my nose against hers, then placed a light kiss on her lips. “I love your heart, your sweetness, and your gorgeous smile. But I have to admit, that bloodthirsty streak I see from time to time makes me hard as fuck.”
Vivienne’s eyes darkened, and she licked her lips. “Maybe we should send the kids over to Mamma Guilia’s house tonight.”
“Brilliant and devious. I married the perfect woman.”