46 | I can't hate someone I don't know
Two hours later, after Luciano finally allowed Gabriele to be taken away by an ambulance, the man was barely alive. I have no idea if the man is still breathing now, and honestly, I couldn't care less, he can go to hell.
The cool night air kisses my skin as I stand in the backyard, staring up at the stars to calm my mind.
The dinner had become suffocating with no one able to eat while Gabriele lay there bleeding out. Thankfully, Luciano's younger sisters weren't around to witness it since it was a brutal scene.
I wrap my arms around myself, exhaling slowly until I hear the sound of heels clicking against the stone pathway.
I turn my head slightly and see Luciano's mother.
She steps into the dim light of the backyard, elegant in her dark silk dress, a cigarette held between her perfectly manicured fingers. Her face is unreadable, as it always is, but the sharp way her eyes flicker over me makes me stiffen.
She takes a slow drag of her cigarette before exhaling, the smoke curling into the air like a whispered secret."Would you have married my son if he had never dated your sister?"
The question hits me like a slap.
I blink, caught off guard. "What?"
She doesn't repeat herself. Just watches my reaction.
I swallow hard, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my dress.
"Yes," I say finally, my voice quieter than I intended. "Because I liked him a lot... I like him, or I had a crush on him... It's complicated."
She inhales from her cigarette again, then, without looking at me, extends the pack toward me. "Smoke?"
I shake my head. "I don't smoke."
She exhales sharply, something like amusement crossing her face. "Please, tell me you drink at least."
A small laugh escapes me, bitter and tired. "Of course. It's the only way I can escape from myself."
At that, she smiles. A real smile.
I'm shocked because I didn't think she was capable of that, not with me.
"You like me?" I suddenly ask. "I thought you hated me."
She raises a perfectly arched brow. "Why would I hate you? I can't hate someone I don't know."
She's right.
She's always been distant, always watching but never engaging. I had met Luciano's father before he passed, his nonna, even his sisters. But his mother? I had only seen her once or twice in passing.
The woman takes another slow drag, eyes fixed on the night sky.
"I used to think like you. That I would never smoke. I told myself I was the wife of a mafia boss, that I had to keep my vices locked away." She lets out a humorless chuckle. "But you'll need a cigarette sooner or later."
I watch her carefully, my curiosity outweighing my caution. "I know it's stressful being the wife of a mafia boss... but can I ask why? Why was is it so unbearable to you? I heard that your husband loved you a lot."
She exhales smoke, her lips curving into something that isn't quite a smile. "Because I was in your situation once."
A strange sense of unease washes over me. "What?"
She glances at me then, her gaze unreadable. "My deceased husband was married to my sister first. They even had two children together."
My stomach drops.
I had no idea. No one had ever spoken about this. Not Luciano. Not his nonna. Not anyone.
I stare at her, trying to process her words. "Where... where are the children now?"
She flicks ash from her cigarette, her expression unchanging. "They died with my husband last year in the car accident." She tilts her head, her voice almost mocking. "I suppose I should say cheers to that, right?"
I don't know what to say.
There's something terrifying about her calmness, about the way she speaks of death as if it's nothing more than an inconvenience.
"You never loved your husband?" I ask carefully.
"Oh, I loved him a lot," she murmurs. "At least, before he married my sister.
" She taps the ash off her cigarette, her voice quieter now.
"Because why would I want to marry him after my sister had died?
Why would I want to be the replacement? The stepmother to her children?
The whore tried to kill me many times. "
I feel my breath catch in my throat.
I know that feeling.
I live in that feeling.
"I heard that your husband loved you," I say carefully.
She laughs, but there's no joy in it. Just something hollow.
"He did fall in love with me during our marriage," she admits. "But I never returned the feelings. Because no matter what, all I could think about was him with my sister."
I swallow hard, her words cutting into me like a blade.
She turns her head then, her sharp gaze locking onto mine. "I understand why you hate my son. He's just like his father, isn't he?"
"Men who went after the older sisters," she continues. "Then had to marry the younger sisters."
Her words land deep inside me, in a place I try to keep buried.
She sees it. She sees the way my body stiffens, the way my lips part but no words come out. Because she knows she's right.
Her lips curl slightly, almost pitying. "I wish I could help you get away from this life, but sadly, I can't." She drops the cigarette, crushing it under the heel of her shoe.
"You're the Don's wife. And that is a role you will never escape.
But hopefully, you won't end up being amiserable woman like me. "
She turns without another word, disappearing back into the house, leaving only the lingering scent of smoke behind.