Page 91 of The Kingpin’s Bride

She looked surprised for a second, then thoughtful. “When I was little… before everything… my mother used to make this simple pasta with just butter, Parmesan, and black pepper. And blood oranges. I always stole the sweetest ones.”

She glanced at the plate of dark oranges I’d cut. “These are perfect.”

“Favorite color?”

She blinked. “Why?”

“Because I want to know. And because Camilla’s new room is getting painted, tell me hers as well. If you have a preference, say it,” I shrugged.

A small, almost shy smile tugged at her mouth. “Camilla’s is yellow. The kind that looks like morning light. And mine… a deep gray. Like the ocean when it’s quiet.”

I nodded once and made a mental note. Soft yellow for Camilla’s walls. Deep gray somewhere she would see every day.

“Go ahead,” I said.

Camilla padded in behind her a minute later, in the oversized t-shirt, hair sticking up in every direction. She climbed onto the chair on her knees, peered at all the food, and then looked at me with big eyes. I nodded.

She reached for the bowl of ricotta with both hands.

I watched her take a careful first bite, then a much bigger one. Halfway through the second spoonful she stopped, looked at the bowl, then at Morena, then back at the bowl.

A little bit of honey ended up on her cheek. She did not seem to notice. The tight, cautious way she had held herself since we pulled her out of the car loosened a little.

Camilla watched her sister with wide, curious eyes while she licked honey off her spoon. Then she pointed the spoon at Morena’s middle.

“Rena,” she said, “your tummy is getting big. Is a baby in there?”

Morena choked on her coffee. I handed her a napkin and kept my face still.

“Cami,” Morena said, face going red, “that’s not how it works.”

Camilla tilted her head, completely serious. “But you’re eating so so much..”

Morena dropped her forehead to the table with a quiet groan.

I took a sip of espresso so I would not smile.

“There’s no baby,” Morena told the table, voice muffled. “I’m just really hungry because I didn’t eat much while I was looking for you.”

Camilla thought about this, swinging her feet. Then she shrugged and went back to her ricotta. “Okay. But if there is a baby can it be a girl? I want a little girl to play with.”

“Finish your breakfast,” I told Camilla gently. “Both of you.”

Camilla gave me a sticky little smile and obeyed, humming between bites. Morena lifted her head, flushed, and shot me a look that promised she would get even later. I held her gaze and let her see I was not laughing at her. The warmth in my chest was quieter than that.

They ate until the plates were mostly empty. Color had come back into Camilla’s face. For a short while the kitchen felt almost ordinary, the same way it used to feel when Aurora forced everyone to sit down and pretend the world outside was not made of sharp edges. I waited until Camilla was busy stacking orange peels into a wobbly tower before I spoke again.

“I need to talk to you,” I said to Morena, quiet enough that the little girl would not catch every word. “After she finishes.”

Morena’s eyes lifted to mine. The embarrassment faded, replaced by the sharper look that never fully left her.

“The Families?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She nodded once. I stood and started clearing the empty plates, giving her the moment she needed.

Behind me Camilla kept humming her little song, completely absorbed in her sticky orange-peel tower, safe and full and four years old in a way she had not been allowed to be for a long time.