My Brothers' Regret After My Death
He was wearing the same white shirt he wore the day we first met, looking clean as he walked toward me.
He didn't dare touch me. He didn't even dare look up. He simply fell to his knees before me, weeping silently.
Then came my brothers—Luca, Matteo, Dante.
They stood behind him with their heads bowed like children who had realized they were wrong, kneeling in a row.
This time, there was no family honor, no Mafia rules, and no goddamn favoritism.
They were just four souls drowning in regret.
I looked at them and let out a soft sigh.