He strode over and lowered his voice to a hiss.
"If you wanted to see me, you could have sent word through one of the men. Why make a scene in front of everyone?"
"Besides, I told you in my letters not to come back on your own. When the time was right, I would have sent someone to bring you."
I held my daughter tight and stared at him in cold silence.
Five years apart, and Dante looked even more handsome than before. Younger, somehow.
His suit was cut from fabric that cost more than most men earned in a year, the cufflinks heavy gold, monogrammed with the Ferrante crest he'd stolen.
My daughter and I, by contrast, wore clothes so thin and patched they barely held together. The kind of clothes no one in this compound would use for rags.
"Husband, didn't you promise me yourself? You said within three years, you would send someone to bring me back. It's been five."
Dante's expression darkened, though a flicker of panic crossed his eyes.
"Serafina, I will bring you back. But not now. The house is hosting a sit-down for the Capos and their people. Important guests. Take the child and leave. We'll talk later."
He slipped a thick envelope of cash into my hands, expecting me to take the money, walk away, and pretend we had nothing to do with each other.
I smiled coldly, opened the envelope, and turned it upside down. Bills scattered across the stone steps, caught by the wind, drifting toward the shoes of the soldiers flanking the entrance.
"The head of the Ferrante family has done well for himself. And this is how you dismiss the wife who stood by you when you had nothing? A handful of bills?"
My voice carried just far enough for every soldier and household man within earshot to hear every word. Dante's face went darker still.
He clenched his jaw and leaned in close. "What do you want from me? I said I'd bring you back. Can't you just take the child and wait a little longer? Just until tonight—"
I turned away with a cold smile, shifting my daughter in my arms as I walked toward the front doors of the house.
"Our daughter hasn't eaten in three days. I'm afraid she can't wait."
"Tell me, Dante, why are you so desperate to keep your own wife from stepping through the door? Is there something in there you'd rather I not see?"