Epilogue
Adora
The Montoni casino is exactly as I remember it, all gold and crystal and velvet, designed to make people feel wealthy, even as they lose their money. The difference is that now, when I walk through the doors on Vincenzo’s arm, I’m not Agnello’s daughter dragged in against her will to be ignored.
I’m Adora Vici, and I’m here because I want to be.
“You’re stunning tonight,” Vincenzo murmurs as we make our way through the crowd, his hand warm on the small of my back. “Have I told you that yet?”
“Twice in the car.” I smile up at him. “But I won’t stop you from saying it again.”
“Stunning,” he repeats, his voice dropping lower. “And mine.”
I scan the room, taking in the familiar faces.
Montoni capos and their wives, other family members, high rollers who don’t ask too many questions about where the money comes from.
“I wanted to see what this place feels like without my father. It feels…different. It belongs to my brother now. If he ever comes back from Italy.”
Cristiano should have returned by now. I’ve called four times since the funeral, and each call goes straight to voicemail. No response. No acknowledgment. Just silence.
The silence feels ominous.
Does he know what I did? Is he freezing me out? Or does he simply not care enough about his father’s death—or his sister—to bother coming home?
I push the worry aside and focus on the present.
I recognize two figures at a craps table near the center of the room.
One is tall and masculine, his eyes very dark, and outlined with velvety lashes.
He has his arm around a slender woman whose hair is as curly as her companion’s, but while his is a rich brown, hers is golden.
She has a classic beauty that’s enhanced by a tight emerald dress.
I recognize them right away and a smile spreads over my face. My friend Lucy and her brother Damiano.
Damiano holds the dice close to Lucy’s lips, and she blows on them for luck. He murmurs something to her that I can’t hear, she smiles, and he throws the dice. He must win, because Lucy claps her hands in pleasure and presses a kiss to his jaw.
As he looks at his sister, Damiano’s eyes are filled with the softness of a devil gazing at his one weakness. The intimacy between them feels laden with significance.
On Lucy’s other side, another man picks up the dice, preparing for his turn. Saying something to Lucy, he holds the dice up, seeming to ask her to blow on them again for luck.
Damiano’s expression instantly turns cold and dangerous. He glares at the stranger like he wants to put a bullet in him, then draws Lucy closer, his hand splaying possessively across her waist.
Lucy gives the man a cursory glance, then turns her attention back to her brother. She’s tucked against his side, her body flush with his. Her fingers play with his tie as they talk softly to one another, like she’s not even aware she’s doing it.
It’s automatic. Natural. The kind of casual intimacy that comes from long familiarity.
Lucy looks up and catches my eye. Her face brightens with genuine pleasure, and she presses a kiss to Damiano’s cheek before slipping out of his embrace.
His dark brows draw together in immediate disapproval. When he sees it’s me who Lucy is approaching, he gives me a small, tight nod, but a muscle tics in his jaw.
I see Damiano’s overprotectiveness hasn’t lessened any since Lucy and I were in school together.
“Adora!” Lucy throws her arms around me, and I hug her back, laughing. “You look beautiful. Marriage clearly agrees with you.”
“Thank you. You look stunning as always. I love your dress.”
“This old thing?” She gestures dismissively at her emerald dress, but she’s pleased. “How are you? How is the police investigation going? I’ve been worried about you.”
No doubt the Barones have figured out that I’m the one who poisoned my father. Nothing gets past them. Lucy would never judge me, but I wonder what Don Carlucci is saying to his capos.
“They haven’t made contact since the hospital. I hope they’ve given up.”
“Good.” Lucy squeezes my hand. “You’ve been through enough. You deserve some happiness.”
“Thank you.” I glance past her to where Damiano stands watching us, his attention never fully leaving his sister. Vincenzo has stayed back, giving us space, but I can feel his presence behind me like a shield. “We should plan a girls’ night. Just the two of us. It’s been too long.”
“I’d love that.” But there’s something sad in her face. “Though I don’t know how many more chances we’ll have. Dad will probably want me to marry soon.”
“And will you?” I ask gently.
“Not if I can help it.” She glances back at Damiano, and something complex flickers across her face. Longing, resignation, something I can’t quite name. “I’ll never find a husband who will love me as much as my brother does. I know I’ll never love a man as much as I love Damiano.”
The words hang between us, weighted with more meaning than I think Lucy intends.
Before I can respond, the energy in the room shifts.
The crowd parts, conversations dropping to murmurs, and I see why.
My brother Cristiano walks through the casino like he owns it, which he does now.
He’s accompanied by several capos I don’t recognize, men with hard eyes and expensive suits.
His own suit is impeccable, charcoal gray with subtle pinstripes, and he wears it with the easy confidence of someone born into power.
He looks like our father.
The realization hits me with unexpected force. Same height, same build, though he’s leaner and fitter and better-looking. He has a way of moving through a room like he expects it to rearrange itself around him.
But his eyes are different. Controlled. He’s ice where our father was fire.
Those eyes find me across the casino floor, and my breath catches.
Does he know? Has he figured out what I did?
Cristiano makes his way toward me, his entourage following at a respectful distance. Before reaching me, he stops several feet away and just watches me.
“Sorellina,” he murmurs, using the Italian he must have grown accustomed to while he was away. Little sister. “You look well. And you, Miss Barone,” he adds with a polite nod to Lucy, who returns it.
“Cristiano.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “I didn’t know you were back in Malus.”
I feel Vincenzo move protectively to my side and wrap his arm around my waist.
The two men size each other up in silence, two predators unexpectedly face to face on the same territory. Vincenzo doesn’t step back, doesn’t lower his eyes. He meets my brother’s stare with quiet confidence.
“Vici,” Cristiano says finally. It’s not quite a greeting.
“Montoni.” Vincenzo’s voice is carefully neutral.
The silence stretches. I wait for Cristiano to say something, a threat, a warning, anything, but he doesn’t. He just watches Vincenzo with cold, assessing eyes.
Finally, Cristiano’s gaze flicks back to me. “Things are going to be different now I’m back, Adora. The family needs strong leadership after Dad’s…unfortunate passing. I intend to provide that.”
“I’m sure you will,” I say carefully.
“Come see me at the mansion sometime.” His invitation could be affectionate or threatening. I honestly can’t tell. “We have much to discuss. Family matters.”
“Of course.”
He nods once, then turns and walks away, his capos falling into formation around him. The casino’s energy shifts again as people return to their games and conversations, the moment passing.
“Well,” Lucy says into the silence that follows, her eyes wide. “A new don in Malus. That will shake things up.”
“Two new dons,” Vincenzo corrects her, and Lucy’s eyes drop to the raven signet ring on his finger.
Lucy nods, her eyes on the ring. “Oh, yes. Things are definitely going to get interesting in Malus.”
I watch my brother disappear into the back rooms of the casino, and I wonder what he meant by speaking to me of family matters.
Does he suspect I killed Dad? Does he know? Does he even care? Or does he want me to understand my place in the Montoni family now we have a new don?
My place is at Vincenzo’s side, because I’m a Vici now.
“Doe,” Vincenzo says, his hand finding mine. “Would you like to stay longer, or shall we get out of here?”
“Let’s go home.”
We say our goodbyes to Lucy and Damiano.
As she returns to her brother, Damiano immediately pulls Lucy back to his side, his arm sliding around her waist with unmistakable possession.
She leans into him naturally, her head tilting toward his shoulder as they whisper to each other, no doubt discussing the implication of the return of Cristiano Montoni.
As we make our way toward the exit, I glance back one more time.
Cristiano has emerged from the back rooms and is standing on the upper level, looking down at the casino floor. His eyes find mine across the distance.
He raises his glass in a small salute.
A toast.
Just like the one Dad made that ended his life.
Cristiano turns away, and I’m left wondering what the gesture meant. A chill goes down my spine, and Vincenzo must feel it.
“Stop worrying,” Vincenzo murmurs as we step out into the cool night air. “Whatever he knows or doesn’t know, we’ll handle it.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” He opens the car door for me. “Now let’s go home.”
The word settles warm in my chest.
Home.
Later that week, as Vincenzo and I walk into the house, the smell of garlic and tomato sauce greets us at the door. I realize what this means. Sofia emerges from the kitchen, flour on her apron, her face lighting up when she sees us.
“Finally! I was about to send Matteo to drag you home.”
A family Sunday dinner.
Vincenzo pulls Sofia into a gentle hug. “Smells like heaven in here, Zia. What did we do to deserve you?”
“You married a wonderful woman,” Sofia says, beaming. “That’s what.”
Matteo appears behind her, grinning. “Food’s ready. I’ve been dying here.”
“Dramatic,” Sofia chides, but she’s smiling. “Come, sit. Everything’s hot.”
We gather around the dining table, the same table where we once sat planning how to survive Dashamir and my father. Now we sit simply to enjoy a meal with the people we love.
Sofia has outdone herself. Manicotti stuffed with ricotta and covered in rich red sauce, garlic bread that’s perfectly crisp, a simple salad with fresh basil.
Vincenzo reaches for the wine bottle and moves around the table, pouring for Sofia, me, and Matteo, before filling his own glass. The gesture is so natural that it makes me ache with happiness.
“This is incredible,” I say around my first bite.
“It’s nothing special.” But Sofia looks pleased.
“It’s perfect,” I insist.
Vincenzo raises his wineglass. “To the best cook in Malus.”
We eat, and for a few minutes there’s just the comfortable sounds of forks on plates, appreciative murmurs, and Matteo reaching for seconds.
Then Sofia clears her throat. “It’s been over a week now since the police came to the hospital. Have they contacted you again?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Not a single call.”
“That’s good, right?” Matteo looks between us. “It means they’ve moved on?”
“It means they have no witnesses and no evidence,” Vincenzo says, and adds with a tinge of irony, “three hundred guests at that wedding, and not one of them saw anything. It’s a mystery.”
Sofia reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers. “You’re safe now. Both of you. That’s what matters.”
Vincenzo chews for a moment and then catches my gaze and winks at me. We know what really happened to Dad, but the cops will never find out.
I squeeze Sofia’s hand, grateful for her steady presence. For her acceptance. For the way she’s welcomed me into this family, without question or judgment.
“Actually,” Sofia says, pulling her hand back and fidgeting with her napkin. “I’ve been thinking. Now that you two are married, perhaps it’s time for me to go back to my own place. Give you space to start your life together properly.”
“No,” I say immediately, sitting up. “No, Sofia, please don’t go.”
She blinks, surprised. “But surely you’ll want privacy.”
“We have plenty of privacy. We want this to be your home too. And besides…” I glance at Vincenzo, who nods encouragingly. “I’m going to need a woman’s help. When our family starts to grow.”
Sofia’s eyes widen. “You’re pregnant?”
“Not yet,” I say quickly. “But hopefully soon. And when that happens, I’d like you to be here. Please.”
Tears shine in Sofia’s eyes. “As a widow all alone in that big house, I have dreaded returning there. You mean it?”
“Of course we mean it,” Vincenzo tells her. “You’re family, Sofia. We love you.”
She smiles at him with tears swimming in her eyes. “I’d be honored.”
Matteo raises his wineglass. “To family,” he says simply. “And to coming around here and raiding my don’s fridge every other night.”
Vincenzo cusses him out in Italian while I laugh.
“To family,” I echo.
Sofia refills my wineglass, and Matteo reaches for more garlic bread. Vincenzo’s hand finds mine under the table, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.
This is what I fought for. Not just freedom from my father, but this warmth and laughter in my life again. Family whom I love rather than endure. I haven’t felt this way since Mom was taken from me.
I watch Sofia move around the kitchen, Matteo laughing at something she says. Vincenzo’s eyes soften as he watches them both. This house, these people, they’re my family now.
The is the family I chose. The family I fought for. The family I killed for.
And I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
I’m Adora Vici.
And this is only the beginning.
Thank you for reading Cruel Savior.