|Grace|
I found my gaze irresistibly drawn to the tattoo on Silvester’s back, a sight I had not fully appreciated until now. After months of being under his care, this was the first time I had a clear view of it. He lay sleeping peacefully on his stomach, his breaths even and calm, and I hesitated to disturb him despite his promise from the night before to give me a tour of the mansion today. I haven’t explored it in the past three days I was here because of the wedding preparation.
Silvester had shared with me that this tattoo marked his formal entry into the cosa nostra following his father's death. It bore the crest of the clan, a symbol steeped in history since the Victorian era. The design was intricate, featuring swirling patterns interspersed with swords and ancient script that e
