Alessia Mancini
The cacophony of the casino, the chiming of slot machines, the murmur of voices, the clinking of glasses, seemed to fade into the background as I focused on my father's weathered face.
"Nothing is happening that I haven't agreed to," I said softly, trying to keep my voice steady. The weight of Giovanni's gaze on my back was palpable, a reminder of the delicate balance I was trying to maintain. "Dad, you need to go to rehab."
My father's eyes widened, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. "I don't need rehab," he spat, his voice low and raspy. "I need my daughter back."
"Dad," I said, struggling to keep my voice even, "you can't keep doing this. You can't keep gambling away everything we have left."
I could sense Giovanni shifting behind me, his presence a constant remin
