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PROLOGUE
“I feel like myself, strong and weak at once.”
~ Veronica Roth
MELODY
The moment my feet touched the marble flooring at the entrance of our house, I felt my whole body relax. The coolness of the floor eased my aching feet as our butler reached for my coat.
“Welcome home, Ma’am. Would you like anything?” He nodded and folded my coat over his arm.
“Are the children in bed?” I questioned as I leaned over to pick up my black Dolce and Gabbana heels from the ground.
“Yes, Ma’am. And the master is in his study.”
The master? I’m sure Liam enjoyed that one. Without another word to him, I headed up the stairs. Once again because of the goddamn teachers union, I was coming home late. Knowing Ethan, he was still probably trying to stay awake. He never went to bed without seeing me first and I looked forward to it more than anything else in the world…he, all of my children, made my heart ache in the best possible way. I didn’t understand it. I barely recognized myself with them…I was at peace. It felt odd. I’d never felt peace in all of my life.
Since I was a child, my father beat it into me that I was a Giovanni. I needed to be strong, be ruthless. As a teenager, I watched as he slowly died in front of me, his legacy fading along with him. I gave my life to the Italian family. As an adult, I fought my mother and my grandfather; the world felt like it was going to crumble around me. And yet I made it to the other side and every time I looked into my children’s faces, I saw that victory.
My life had changed drastically over the years and it still felt like a dream.
“Knock, knock,” I whispered softly. I poked my head inside Ethan’s room and saw him shift immediately. Smiling to myself, I dropped my heels by the corner of the door before running towards his bed and jumping in next to him to tickle his sides.
“Mommy!” He laughed outright, his body twisting and turning away from me, which only made me tickle him more.
“Someone is up past their bedtime,” I said as I sat up and ran my hands through his messy brown hair.
“You promised to come home early,” he said with a frown.
“Blame the teachers,” I said, cupping his face.
“I w—” he coughed before he could finish his statement. But it wasn’t just one cough. He grabbed onto his chest, his whole body leaning forward.
“Ethan? Sweetheart?” I grabbed on to him, his face slowly turning purple. “ETHAN!” I yelled.
“Momma…” he gasped, blood coming from his nose.
“ETHAN! ETHAN! LIAM! LIAM! HELP ME!” Picking him up, I ran towards the door when—
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
The gunshots never ending, all of coming from—
“WYATT! DONA!”
“Ma’am, we’re under attack!” Fedel yelled as he rushed into the room.
“Attack? Who?” Fuck, none of that mattered. “Take him! Take care of him now!” I threw Ethan into his arms.
“Ma’am, it’s not safe!”
“SAVE MY SON!” I screamed, spit flying from my lips as I ripped the family photo off the wall beside Ethan’s desk. Behind it, I’d stashed my assault rifle and Glock along with three magazine clips. Strapping them, I didn’t even hesitate before kicking in the door to Wyatt and Dona’s room.
Blood.
