Alessia Mancini
"If you had just told us you'd spoken to Matteo," I continued, "we could have sorted this out. Without anyone getting hurt. Without me having to..." My voice broke, and I had to pause, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat.
The silence in the cell was deafening. I could hear my own heart pounding, feel Giovanni's steady breathing against my back. My father looked smaller somehow, hunched in on himself as the weight of his choices seemed to physically press down on him.
I wanted to reach out to him, to offer some comfort. But the memory of what I'd been through – what I'd had to do – because of his actions held me back. The gulf between us felt insurmountable at that moment.
I turned back into Giovanni's chest, wiping my eyes against the crisp fabric of his shirt
