But the detectives are watching me closely, and Adora Montoni, the grieving daughter, would want to pay her respects to her dead father.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Please.”
They lead me to a private room where my father lies on a gurney, covered with a white sheet up to his chest. His face is still red, contorted, frozen in the moment of death. I stand beside him, Vincenzo a silent presence behind me, and I feel…nothing.
No grief. No regret. Not even satisfaction.
Just emptiness where he used to live in my head.
“How long do you think before the police give up?” I ask Vincenzo quietly.
“Not long. Days, maybe.” Vincenzo’s voice is low. “No one at that wedding is going to talk to the police. Not a single person will admit to seeing anything. People in our world know better than that.”
“And the autopsy?”
“It will confirm he died from poisoning. But without witnesses, without evidence of who did it…” He shrugs. “These things happen in our world. Powerful men make enemies. Sometimes those enemies act.”
I lean into him, closing my eyes. “Is it really over?”
“It’s over.” He presses a kiss to my temple. “You’re free, doe. Once we’ve talked with Dashamir Dervishi, we both are.”
I reach out and touch Dad’s cold hand. A performance in case anyone’s watching me, nothing more.
“What was it you told me, Dad?” I whisper. “We’re Montonis. We don’t forgive. We don’t forget.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“But I’m still sorry it had to be this way,” I say quietly, and I almost mean it. Sorry that he was the kind of man who left me no choice. Sorry that he killed my mother and Lira and God knows how many others. Sorry that he never learned to love anything except power.
But I’m not sorry he’s dead.
“Goodbye, Dad.”
Then I turn and walk out with my husband by my side, and I don’t look back.
The bridal suiteat the historic mansion is beautiful. All cream and gold, with a massive four-poster bed and French doors that open onto a private balcony. Clara arranged it. She thinks of everything.
Vincenzo locks the door behind us, and suddenly we’re alone for the first time since the ceremony. Truly alone.
Truly free.
I stand in the middle of the room, still in my wedding dress, and I start to shake.
It starts in my hands, a fine tremor I can’t control. Then my arms. My legs. Within seconds, my whole body is trembling violently, my teeth chattering despite the warmth of the room.
“Hey.” Vincenzo is there immediately, his hands on my shoulders. “Hey, you’re okay. We’re okay.”
“Why am I shaking if I don’t even feel guilty?” The words tumble out between shivers.
“Come here.” He guides me to sit on the edge of the bed, then kneels in front of me, rubbing warmth into my cold hands. “It’s the adrenaline. Your body’s been running on it for hours. Days, probably. Now that the danger’s passed, it’s crashing out of you all at once.”
“I don’t feel bad that he’s dead.” My voice cracks. “I thought I would feel happy at least, but I don’t. I feel…empty.”
“That’s normal.” His thumbs trace circles on my palms, grounding me. “You’re trying to process everything that’s happened. It’s a lot, Adora.”
The shaking intensifies, and tears I don’t understand start streaming down my face. “I’m not sad. Why am I crying?”
He sits beside me on the bed and pulls me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. “Just let it happen. Let your body do what it needs to do. I’ve got you.”
