"Mr. Vitale." Mama's voice is careful, measured. She knows exactly who he is and what he's capable of.
"He's so mysterious and brooding," Sofia pipes up, oblivious to the tension.
"Sofia."
"What? It's true!"
The next hour is a blur of fabric swatches, menu tastings, and debates about flowers. Sofia offers opinions on everything. Salvatore stays engaged, deferring to me on decisions but present in a way I didn't expect.
"What colors are you thinking?" Elena asks. "For the overall palette?"
Salvatore turns to look at me, waiting for my response.
“You’re welcome to give your opinion too, this is our wedding after all,” I say and he gets the hint.
I open my mouth, but Salvatore speaks at the same time.
"blue," we both say.
I turn to stare at him. He's staring back.
"With gold accents," I add.
Elena beams. "You two are so in sync!"
When Elena excuses herself to retrieve more samples, Salvatore touches my elbow.
"I'm going to give you some time with your mother and sister," he says quietly. "You need to talk without me hovering."
"You don't have to."
"I want to." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "I'll be back in an hour. Take the time you need."
He nods to Mama, gives Sofia a small smile, and disappears through the door with Marco trailing behind him.
The moment he's gone, the energy in the room shifts.
"Okay," Sofia says, looking between me and Mama. "Someone want to tell me what's actually going on? Because there's clearly a whole conversation happening that I'm not part of."
Mama sighs, setting down her champagne. "Sit down, both of you. It's time I told you everything."
We settle onto the sofa, Sofia on one side of me, Mama across from us. The afternoon light catches the silver in her hair, and for a moment, she looks older than I've ever seen her.
"My name wasn't always Maria Marino," she begins. "I was born Isabella Castellano."
Sofia's brow furrows. "Castellano? Like the crime family Castellanos?” Sophia begins to stand and I take her hand in mind, softly squeezing it.
“Soph, just let her tell it.”
"Yes." Mama's voice is heavy. "My father, Vincent Castellano, was the consigliere, the most trusted advisor, to Giovanni Vitale. Salvatore's father."
I already know this part. Mama told me when she first visited the compound. But hearing her say it again, here, with Sofia listening... it feels different. More real.
"When I was nineteen, your age actually Sofia. An arrangement was made," Mama continues. "I was supposed to marry Salvatore’s father.” “Wait,” Sophia interrupts. “Salvatore’s father, as in, Valentina’s fiancés dad?” “Yes. Itwould have elevated our family, cemented the alliance between the Castellanos and the Vitales forever."
"But you didn't marry him," Sofia says slowly. "You married Dad."
"Marco." Mama smiles, but it's tinged with sadness. "Your father was one of Giovanni's guards. Young, handsome, kind. Everything Giovanni wasn't." She looks down at her hands. "I fell in love with him. And I made a choice that changed everything."
