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I open my mouth to protest—but the words never come. My pulse stumbles every time his name lights up my phone. His touch lingers like a ghost long after he’s gone. Maybe I don’t need to say it. Maybe I’ve known all along.

“I… I don’t know,” I admit quietly. “Everything’s so complicated. Sometimes I think I’m starting to understand him, and then he pulls away again.”

I take a sip of my drink, letting the warmth spread through my chest. “It’s not just that. I’m scared of… of wanting more. Of letting myself feel something for him.”

“Because of who he is?” Ginny prompts gently.

I nod, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because of who he is, what he does. Because I know that in his world, attachments are dangerous. And not to mention Beatrice…”

Ginny’s eyes soften with understanding. “Ah, Beatrice. The ghost that still haunts the Davacalli home.” She reaches across the table, squeezing my hand. “Maria, you can’t live in her shadow forever. You’re not her replacement—you’re your own person.”

I nod, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. “I know that, logically. But sometimes… sometimes I feel like I’m competing with a memory. And how can I possibly measure up to that?”

Ginny leans in, her voice low and intense. “By being yourself. Beatrice was Beatrice, and you are you. Matteo married you, not her ghost.”

I let out a shaky breath, mulling over her words. “I suppose you’re right. It’s just… hard sometimes.”

“Of course it is,” Ginny says, leaning back in her chair with a sympathetic smile. “But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Maria. I’ve seen it.”

I offer a weak smile in return, grateful for her unwavering support. “Thank you, Ginny. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

As we finish our lunch, the nausea that had momentarily subsided returns with a vengeance. I press a hand to my stomach, trying to will it away.

Ginny notices immediately, her brow creasing with concern. “Maria, you’re pale again. Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nod, though the motion makes my head spin. “Just feeling a bit queasy. It’ll pass.”

But as we stand to leave, a wave of dizziness washes over me. I stumble, grabbing the edge of the table for support. Ginny’s arm is around me in an instant, steadying me.

“Crap,” she says, her voice laced with worry. “Maybe we should get you home.”

I nod weakly, letting her guide me out of the café. The fresh air helps a little, but my stomach is still churning uncomfortably. We walk toward the car, with Tony waiting nearby. He looks bored—until he sees Ginny helping me. Then, he jumps into action.

“What happened?” He crosses the remaining distance and relieves Ginny of her crutch duties. “Mrs. Davacalli, are you all right?”

I nod. “I just need to lay down. Take me back home, please. Ginny, I’m so sorry about this, I…”

My words die as a shadow falls over me. When I lift my gaze, my breath catches. Daniele. His eyes pin me in place, sharp and unreadable. He moves toward me, slow and deliberate, like a predator closing in.

Tony tenses beside me. “We should get you into the car.”

I shake my head and pull out of his hold. The nausea still persists but I am able to push it back as much as I can in order to focus my attention on my stepson as he comes to a halt in front of me.

“Well, well. Step-mommy. Out and about without your leash. Does Daddy know?” Daniel sneers my way. “Ginny, I didn’t take you for the type to be around harlots. You are meant to be the upper crust of the mafia world. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

“Watch yourself, Daniele,” Ginny snaps. “What are you doing here? Last I heard, Daddy gave you an ass-whooping for straying.”

Daniele’s nostrils flare. “Funny, I heard that you are running from your husband because you caught him red-handed with the maid—what a sad cliché.”

“Watch yourself, Daniele.” I try to sound intimidating but my voice has drained of all its power.

Daniele steps toward me. “You look like you’re already halfway to the grave, step-mommy. Should I give you a push? Trust me—it’d be a mercy, considering what you’re about to learn.”

His joke is sick and twisted, and I want to slap him, but Tony pushes my wrist down.

“You may be the boss’s son, but say one more threat, and I will personally hand your ass to you, Daniele.” Tony plays the role of bodyguard to perfection.

“I only come bearing some words for my step-mommy, Tony, no need to get your panties in a twist.” Daniele cuts his gaze to me. “The name you wear now, Maria? It’s heavy, drenched in blood—maybe even your own. Watch your back. The wolves? They’re starving.”