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As the sun began to set, casting shadows over the empty grounds, I took a deep breath.
As much as I cared for Dante and wanted to be with him, this right here was proof of why I couldn’t.
Who was trustworthy?
Who was not?
Chapter 16
Dante
AsIenteredmyhome, the heaviness of the meeting with the leaders of the mafia families clung to me, suffocating and oppressive.
The air was filled with the lingering scent of sorrow, and the absence of my father weighed heavily on my heart.
Each step I took felt burdened, as if the weight of responsibility had doubled in my absence.
As much as I hadn’t wanted to attend the meeting, especially as my father had just died, it wasn’t like I had a choice.
Between hushed conversations and tense negotiations, I had taken my place at the head of the table, surrounded by familiar faces.
After all, even before the passing of my father, I had been the don of the Cortini family for a while now.
The atmosphere in the room was a mix of respect and tension as the leaders discussed their interests while honoring my father's memory.
But my mind kept drifting back to the fact that my father was dead.
The loss of my father weighed heavily on me, consuming my thoughts.
His absence was palpable, leaving an irreplaceable void.
No amount of power or influence could fill the emptiness.
The meeting passed by like a blur in my eyes, and I was relieved.
I didn’t want to continue to be in the midst of people who only wished to secure their benefits and interests.
Walking through the quiet halls of my home, I could still hear the echoes of mourning.
I found myself standing before my father's study which was filled with memories.
I entered.
The mahogany desk, cluttered with papers and mementos, served as a stark reminder of his presence.
My eyes lingered on the worn leather chair where he had sat countless hours, shaping the destiny of our family.
A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I sank into the chair, the weight of grief settling deep within my bones.
The room appeared both suffocating and comforting all at once.
Memories flooded my mind of shared laughter, stern lectures, and moments of quiet understanding.
I closed my eyes, allowing the memories to wash over me.
It was in these moments of solitude like this that I could truly mourn, allowing the tears to flow freely without the fear of my feelings being seen as a weakness.
I missed Angela.
