Lydia's Point Of View
The air in the foyer didn't just turn cold; it vanished. I felt as though I'd been plunged underwater, my lungs burning, my ears ringing with the echo of those five impossible words. Don Vito Silvestro's son.
I stared at the man standing beside my Aunt Rita, studying the way he carried himself… the effortless, terrifying authority radiating off him like heat from a furnace. Then my gaze snapped to Seraphina. The sharp line of her jaw, the way her eyes held that same piercing, unbreakable steel, it was all there.
My brain screamed at me to look away, to find a glitch, a lie, anything to prove this was a hallucination brought on by the stress of our mounting debts. But the similarities stared back at me like a mockery, undeniable and cruel.
Dizziness washed over me in waves. My knees actually buckled, and I had to grab Lucinda's arm just to stay upright. The world tilted sideways, and for a moment I thought I might vomit right there on the marble floor.
