Chapter 3

My hands were shaking.

"Vito." My voice came out raw. "You need to explain this."

He looked at me from the sofa. Frowned.

"Don't go there, Luna. I'm Nino's godfather. That's it."

Sofia came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel.

She crossed the room and grabbed my arm before I could pull back.

"Luna, come sit. Let me explain."

She walked me to a chair at the dining table.

Nino followed behind us, both arms still wrapped around Vito's leg, staring up at me like I was some stranger who'd walked into his home.

Sofia sat down across from me.

She bit her lip. Her eyes went red almost right away.

"Nino has Gallone blood," she said. "But his father wasn't Vito. It was Vito's older brother."

She stopped for a second to let that land.

"We were together. Then he got killed in a turf war. The only thing he left me was this boy."

Her voice cracked. "I've been moving around with Nino for years. If Vito hadn't taken us in, we'd be dead."

Vito lifted Nino onto his lap. His other hand went to Sofia's shoulder, a quick little pat, easy and smooth, like something he'd done so many times it didn't even register anymore.

I sat there watching them.

I didn't say a word. I didn't cry.

Vito's voice went hard. "Luna, cut it out."

"Nino is the only blood this family has left. You want to sit here and watch a kid lose everything? End up with nothing?"

The only blood this family has left?

Something I'd kept buried for two years came crashing out.

I got pregnant once. Just past two months.

It happened after an ambush. A rival family found one of our safe houses. I caught a bullet getting out, and by the time I found cover, the pain in my stomach was coming in waves so bad I couldn't see straight.

I crouched behind a stack of shipping crates in a warehouse basement and called Vito.

He picked up. Three seconds of dead air.

"I'm in the middle of a sit-down with every senior boss we've got."

His voice was calm. "If I come get you now, every guy in this room knows who you are by morning. Too risky. Get to a hospital on your own."

I opened my mouth to tell him I couldn't stand up.

He'd already hung up.

I dragged myself to a private clinic. What followed was hours of hell on an operating table.

After a long, brutal fight to keep the baby alive, they managed to save it. Barely.

But the moment I walked out of that room, a thousand thoughts were spinning through my head. The family was surrounded on all sides. Every rival crew was circling, waiting for a crack. Things were already falling apart.

And part of me thought, selfishly maybe, that Vito didn't need one more thing to worry about because of me.

So I chose to bury it. The pregnancy, the baby, all of it. I didn't say a single word to him.

Vito, I'm carrying your child too. But you'll never know that now.

I closed my eyes. "Enough with the stories. Just say what you want."

My voice was flat. "Whatever the real point of all this is, spit it out. I don't have time."

Sofia and Vito traded a look.

She turned back to me, folded her hands, put on her careful face. "Luna, I know this brownstone is in your name."

"But Nino needs a registered family address to qualify as a recognized branch heir. The property would need to go into the family trust for a while."

"As soon as the baptism's done, I'll sign the title right back over. I swear."

She looked up at me with those big, hopeful eyes. Waiting.

I laughed. Just came out.

"All of this. Years of it. The stories, the tears, the whole performance. Just to lie to me."

I looked at them. "Aren't you two tired?"

The room went quiet.

I reached into my coat and took out a folded piece of old paper.

I'd grabbed it from the Consigliere's files before I left headquarters.

I opened it up and laid it flat on the marble table.

The writing was in church script. No way to argue with it.

Vito Gallone and Sofia. Married in the Church. Registered five years ago.

Dead quiet.