CHAPTER 18

Antonio Dante's pov

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO,

The air suddenly became too heavy to breathe. My vision was blurred and I was sure my mother's was too. I watched as she carefully located the chair beside her and sat on it. As if she couldn't support herself. I saw the muscles moving, indicating a persistent swallowing.

I slowly sat on the bed, opposite the chair and rested my arms on my thighs, waiting for her to speak.

She pressed her lips together and looked down.

“My father wasn't part of the Mafia,” she explained.

“In fact, he was the opposite,” she voiced.

“He was a police officer.”

She fell back on her chair as if exhausted.

“He hated the idea of killing people and murdering innocent beings.”

“Like you,” she whispered, smiling towards me. I had never met my grandfather from my mother's side but I liked him already. He seemed good.

“He even led the officers towards investigating crimes committed by mafia groups.”

She smiled sadly.

“I was a grown woman by then, ready to venture into