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Hurling down, I passed the open-plan living space and barged into Armando, coming to find me.
“Signor Capizzi, Signora Capizzi is at the door…”
The breath left my lungs with a whoosh, and everything else stalled.
“I meant your mother, Signor,” Armando said, his eyes not meeting mine.
Right. Of course. Why would it be otherwise?
“Send her in. No,” I said, stopping Armando’s progress to the front door. “I’ll open the door.”
Storming to the door, I yanked it open to find the woman intent on ruining my life. Was it not enough that she ruined my father’s?
“Oh, Antonio, I heard that gold-digging bitch just picked up and left you and the baby.”
I didn’t yield from the doorway. I wasn’t sure if I had enough self-restraint to let her survive this. There was an awful itch on my trigger finger.
She frowned. “Really, Antonio, let me in…”
“No.”
She jerked her head back, uncertainty lining her face. “Just because you are angry at her—”
“I am not angry at her, Maria. You are in the way of me leaving, so I can bring her back home. So I can make many, many beautiful brown babies with her.”
She gasped, disgust ageing her face.
“You are thinking with your dick again—”
“Shut up,” I snapped. “How I think is no business of yours. It is definitely no business of yours to send some bitch over here with false information.”
“I was only trying to look out for you, figlio mio.” She tried to grab hold of my hand, which I swatted away.
“You have never looked out for me or Angelo just like you never did for Papà. He might have had a shitload of patience with you, but this stops here for me.”
Any colour she had on her face shrank away to leave an empty palette of nothing with crimson paint. A fucking joker.
“Do you think I don’t know the shit you pulled on him? Binding him to you?”
I stepped off the doorway, getting in her face, and hissed between my teeth. “This is your final warning. If you do anything, anything at all, to my wife or my daughter, I will put you in a fucking box.”
She gasped, her hands flying to her chest. “Antonio, you wouldn’t.”
“Go ahead and try me.” Walking back, I slammed the door in her face. I needed to go get my wife now.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
DIVYA
Silence. That’s all I heard in here.
When I woke up in the morning, there were no welcoming squeals of Cora, no Buongiorno from Rosa. There was no Angelo popping in for breakfast or a friendly hello from Armando. There was especially, especially no Antonio, whispering soft musical words in my ears, giving me kisses of satin with velvet touches.
Silence. The hole where my heart used to be hurt. It hurt too much to breathe. My breath hitched every time I tried.
Silence. My eyes hurt from holding in unshed tears. It hurt from the burden of knowledge of a viewed video. It hurt knowing I could never unsee it.
Silence. I was sick of it. I hated it. But the walls in this place I used to call home refused to repeat the words of my parents, and the floors refused to echo the sound of their footsteps.
