Milo
All heads turn toward her.
Gina steps into the room with measured grace, her robe tied tighter around her waist now and her face scrubbed clean of any trace of makeup or pretense. It isn’t her appearance that holds everyone captive; it’s her eyes: blazing with fury yet glistening with unshed tears that reflect years of pain and betrayal.
“You’ll do it,” she repeats, her voice steady. Her gaze locks onto Vittorio like a predator sizing up its prey. “Because you owe me that much after everything.” She takes another step closer, her focus never wavering from her husband, even as she addresses the room at large. “You owe your son.”
Vittorio swallows thickly; even from across the room, I notice how his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. Whatever Gina is talking about has him in a chokeho
