"All of this," he continued, "is my fault. I admit that." His gaze remained fixed on her, steady enough to make lying feel impossible. "What you resorted to, I take responsibility for. Love in the famiglia," he said, "for a Don or for a future Don, is a luxury. Something we do not believe we are entitled to. Something so rare to find that we dismiss it entirely."
His mouth curved faintly then. "So we made an excuse that it belongs to weaker, happier people."
Bianca swallowed. She had never heard him speak like this.
"When I arranged your marriage to Luca," he said, "when you were nothing but five years old, I did not think it through. I thought lightning could not strike the same place twice. I suppose I was wrong." He exhaled once. "Lightning did strike twice. And you became its victim."
"For that," he said, "I apologize."
"Don—" Bianca began.
"Let me finish." He raised a hand. "But," he said, "nothing excuses treason."
