They all decided my usual good temper had been an act.That I was fake, violent, and good for nothing.Gigi turned to Sal, eyes watery. "I'm sorry, Consigliere. It's all my fault.""I shouldn't have spoken up. I provoked your wife. Please don't blame her."She lowered her head, looking utterly guilty."Not your fault.""I'm the one who dragged you into this."He comforted her, then turned to me with that pathetic, begging voice. "Cara, don't take our problems out on innocent people.""Today is our son's baptism. Stop the theatrics, okay? I'm begging you."As he spoke, he forced out a sob—tears streaming down his face like a broken faucet. Too loud, too theatrical, all for the gallery, not for me.His compromise.My violence.The contrast couldn't be clearer.Every made man in the room sided with him.The old guards drew a deep breath, trying one last time. "Daughter-in-law, you've worked hard all these years. Loyal to the Family, filial to us.""There's no need for this.""Show me soli
Read more