Page 208 of Vicious Intentions
The glittering trees towering in shop windows. The colorful lights wrapped around brownstones and lamp posts. The sound of Christmas carols drifting through snow-covered streets. The smell of cinnamon, pine, and roasted chestnuts lingering in the air.
I used to love all of it.
Not anymore.
Chicago holds no joy for me now, nor does this holiday.
It’s been four weeks since Marcello and Stella dragged me back here. Four weeks since they ripped my heart out of my chest and left me to survive without it.
They killed my husband that day in the church.
And I haven’t taken a full breath since.
I can barely look at my siblings anymore. Stella has tried talking to me… tried pulling me out of this endless melancholy that threatens to swallow me whole… but she doesn’t understand the misery I’m trapped in.
How could she?
Her husband still breathes.
Mine does not.
But even through the haze of my depression, I’ve noticed the changes within our home. Not just within our family, but throughout the Outfit too. The biggest change being that my father, Vincent, has officially stepped down asCapo dei Capi.He claims it was simply time, but we all know the truth. The second news of his polyamorous relationship spread through the Outfit, the other Dons lost all respect for him. And a Boss who no longer commands the respect and loyalty of his men isn’t a Boss at all. Period.
It’s also why my father Giovanni relinquished his role asconsigliere, while my other father, Dominic, finally put down his guns and knives and stepped away as the Outfit’s head enforcer.
Neither of them seems particularly upset by the change. In fact, my mother has been practically glowing ever since her husbands no longer have to risk their lives for the syndicate.
Honestly, I’m a little surprised the Outfit allowed any of them to retire at all. I know my father always talked about stepping down when the time was right, but I grew up believing that once you take theomertà, the only way out of thefamigliais in a body bag.
Then again, Marcello likely had a hand in making it happen.
After all, he’s the one sitting on the throne now, with Stella ruling faithfully at his side. And with so much uncertainty surrounding the Outfit’s future, old resentments within our family seem to have taken a backseat.
From what little I’ve gathered, my siblings gave my parents the silent treatment after discovering they’d known about my marriage to Matteo all along. But whatever bitterness about being kept in the dark still lingered between them quickly faded once my father surrendered his crown.
I wish I could be as forgiving.
Maybe if my parents had told Marcello and Stella about my marriage sooner, they wouldn’t have been so quick to kill my husband. But even as the thought crosses my mind, I know nothing would have changed.
The outcome would have still been the same.
Matteo dead.
Me only half alive.
Meanwhile, the war between the Outfit and the Cosa Nostra still rages on despite my return to Chicago. Which only proves what I’ve suspected all along.
This war was never truly about me.
If it had been, it would have ended the moment my siblings brought me home.
I avoid my siblings as much as possible now. It’s just too painful watching them bask in their wedded bliss while mine lies buried in the ground.
They get to keep their happily ever after.
Why did they have to kill mine?
They won’t even let me call Paolina. Won’t let me speak to anyone back in New York. According to them, hearing from Matteo’s family would only ‘confuse’ me further.
