[Alfio's POV — Mancini Estate]
Salvo's arms were solid around me, every step echoing through the marble halls like a heartbeat I didn't want to hear. The faint scent of his cologne—smoke and something darker—clung to me, refusing to fade.
And then I saw them.
Aria, standing near the grand piano, eyes downcast. Bianca left side to her. But none of that mattered. Because beside them— was her.
"...Mom."
The word barely left my lips before she gasped, "Alfio!" and rushed toward me.
Salvo set me down gently—too gently, as if my bones might turn to dust if he wasn't careful—and stepped back, hands slipping into his pockets. Watching. Always watching.
My mother's hands were on me before I could even breathe. Her fingers brushed over my face, my shoulders, and my injured leg, her voice breaking. "How—how did this happen to you, my son? Does it hurt? Tell me—does it hurt?"
I couldn't speak. The moment I saw her, the tightness in my chest cracked open, and tears just… fell.
