I take a deep breath, considering how to answer. There's so much I want to tell her, so many conflicting emotions swirlinginside me. But I'm aware of the guards stationed nearby, the need for discretion in public.
"I'm... adjusting," I say finally. "It's a lot to take in, but I'm managing."
My mother reaches across the table, taking my hand. "And Cesare? How is he treating you?"
I think of this morning, of Cesare's unexpected gentleness, his words of support. "He's... not what I expected," I admit. "He can be cold, demanding. But he's also... protective, in his own way."
Her brow furrows with concern. "Protective doesn't always mean safe, Vittoria. You know that."
I nod, understanding the weight behind her words. "I know, Mam. But I think... I think he genuinely wants to keep me safe. He asked about Father last night."
Her eyes widen slightly. "What did you tell him?"
I look down at our joined hands, voice barely above a whisper. "Nothing specific. But I think he suspects."
My mother squeezes my hand tightly. "Be careful, Vittoria. Your father may not be able to touch you directly anymore, but he still has influence. And Cesare... he's dangerous in his own right."
I meet her gaze, seeing fear and worry etched in her face. "I know, Mam. I'm being careful, I promise."
As our food arrives, we shift to lighter topics, family gossip, and my brothers' antics. My brothers have already flown back to Belfast. They have to take care of things at home while Mam and Father are here in Boston.
For a brief moment, I can pretend this is just a normal lunch between mother and daughter. But reality intrudes when I notice one of my guards shifting closer, eyes scanning the crowd for threats.
"We're heading back to Belfast next week," Mam tells me as we prepare to leave, and my heart constricts. "I want to see you again before I go."
They're leaving already? I don't think I'm ready for that. The thought of being completely alone in this world terrifies me.
"Of course," I tell her, plastering on a smile. I don't want her feeling guilty about leaving me. She has no choice. She has to return with Father.
As I watch her leave, flanked by her own security detail, I feel a pang of longing for the life I've left behind. But I push it aside, steeling myself for what lies ahead.
I have a family dinner to prepare for.
I quickly head to the bathroom before leaving with my guards. Today's been better than I expected. I've missed Mam, and it makes me realize how Cesare's children must be feeling. Mam is everything to me, my support system. Those kids don't have that now that their mother's gone.
I finish up and reach for the door handle, but before I can leave, it swings open.
My father walks in, eyes filled with such hatred and fury it takes my breath away.
My heart races as I instinctively step backward, my body tensing for what's coming. Where the fuck are my guards? They were right outside. How did they not see him enter?
"What are you doing here?" I ask, struggling to keep my voice steady. Even to my own ears, I can hear the fear.
He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he locks the door behind him with a soft click that sounds like a death sentence.
My father advances, fists clenched at his sides. "You ungrateful little bitch," he snarls. "I heard about your performance at the gala last night. You think you're something special now that you're a Mariano, do you? A fucking politician, Vittoria. You embarrassed a politician."
My back hits the wall as I try to maintain distance. I don't want him near me. How did he find out what happened? Who told him?
"I don't know what you're talking about," I tell him, glancing desperately at the locked door.
"Don't play dumb with me," he growls, closing the distance between us. "You think I don't know about your chat with Zhang Longwei? Or how you embarrassed Vince Calloway? Making a spectacle, drawing attention to our business?"
Before I can respond, his hand shoots out, gripping my throat tightly, cutting off my air supply. A familiar terror floods through me; the same fear I've lived with my entire life.
"You listen to me, girl," he hisses, face inches from mine. I can smell whiskey on his breath, see the madness in his bloodshot eyes. "You may be a Mariano now, but don't forget where you came from. You're nothing but a pawn in this game, and you'd better remember that."
I'm struggling to breathe. Black spots dance in my vision as I claw at his hand, but it's useless. He's too strong. His other hand grabs my wrist, twisting my arm at an unnatural angle until I hear something pop.
