Chapter 3

After the funeral, I went straight to Don Vincenzo Angelis' estate.

Cigar smoke hung low in his study and settled in heavy layers. He leaned back on a leather sofa and tapped one finger against the desk in a slow, measured rhythm.

"Sit, Rina." He tipped his chin. "What happened to Giovanni has already been handled by the family. The consigliere will deliver compensation. It will be enough for you and Natalia to live on."

I did not sit. I kept my back straight, and my fingers turned white as I clenched them together. "Don Angelis, I do not want compensation."

His brows rose a fraction, and surprise flashed across his face. "Oh? Then what do you want?"

"A job." I met his gaze without flinching. "I can keep books. I can handle paperwork. I can run errands with the shipping crews if needed. I want to support Natalia myself. I do not want to rely on the Rossini family anymore. I do not want to survive by reading other people's faces."

"Women do not belong out front," he said evenly as he raised his whiskey and took a sip. "A Rossini widow should live quietly and raise her child."

"I am only asking for the chance to earn my own living." My voice stayed level. "I will not cause trouble for the family. I will do whatever I am told, clean and careful."

He studied me in silence. Smoke curled between us and obscured his expression.

At last, he nodded once. "You are tougher than the rumors suggest. Ventusa's shipping branch needs a bookkeeper. You will go there, far from the mess here."

He paused. "The paperwork removing your status as a Rossini family dependent will arrive tomorrow morning."

"Thank you, Don Angelis." I bowed deeply, and the weight on my chest eased a little.

As I left the estate, the Soldati near the alley lowered their heads when they saw me.

For now, Giovanni's widowhood still served as a shield.

I hurried back to the Rossini house, my thoughts fixed on Natalia. I wanted only to pack our things and take her as far from this place as possible.

The front door creaked open. Darkness filled the courtyard, and a weak yellow light glowed from the living room.

I rushed inside and froze. A small figure lay curled against the wall.

Natalia clutched a tiny olive knife and struggled to peel olives into a basin. Swollen, raw blisters covered her hands. Some had burst and left faint streaks of blood. She flinched when I touched her.

"Natalia!" I dropped to my knees and pulled her into my arms.

"Mama!" She collapsed against me and sobbed, her voice hoarse and broken. "Grandma said I'm useless. She said if I don't work, I don't get to eat. I peeled for so long. My hands hurt. Mama, I'm so hungry."

Rage shot up my spine.

"Who told you to do this?" I snapped and looked toward the doorway.

Antonietta stepped out with her hands on her hips. She spat on the floor and sneered, "What's the problem? I made her do a little work. If you eat Rossini food, you earn it. Useless thing. She peels olives and still complains. Born trash, just like her mother."

"She's five years old." My voice shook as I stood and held Natalia tight. "She's Giovanni's daughter, not your servant. We're moving out today. We will not take another bite from this house."

"Moving out?" Antonietta laughed sharply and blocked the door. "You think a widow with a dead-weight child can survive out there? You'll be dead in a gutter within days."

Katrina stepped forward, one hand pressed to her lower back. A satisfied smile rested on her face.

"I'm carrying the Rossini future. This house will need people to serve it." Her eyes slid over me. "You can stay and take care of me. I'll make sure you and the girl get fed."

Giovanni followed her into the room.

"My mother is old. She can't be upset. Katrina is pregnant and needs rest." His tone turned calculating. "You stay and handle the housework. I won't treat you badly. At least you and Natalia won't starve."

"I don't need your charity." I turned and carried Natalia toward the bedroom. "The Rossini table means nothing to us."

At dawn, before the sky fully lightened, I led Natalia out the door. Two train tickets to Ventusa rested in my hand. I had arranged everything overnight.

Once we boarded that train, we would be free. We would have a clean break and a new life.

We reached the mouth of the alley. A shadow lunged forward and blocked our path.

Giovanni stood there in a black suit. His hair lay in disarray, and his eyes were bloodshot and wild. He had not slept. His gaze locked onto the tickets in my hand like a starving animal sighting meat.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.