A week or two has passed since I returned to Miami, the familiarity of home providing a small measure of comfort amidst the grief that still clings to me like a second skin. Work has been a welcome distraction, the routine of the office offering a semblance of normalcy in a world that feels irrevocably changed. And through it all, the tiny life growing inside me has been my anchor, a constant reminder of the love Stefano and I shared.
Today, I find myself at our gang's headquarters, a place I rarely frequent due to Dad's desire to keep me out of our mafia business. I am on my way to Santiago's office.
"How are you doing, Sis?" Santiago greets me as I enter, his eyes searching my face for signs of the pain I've become so adept at hiding.
"I'm doing well," I reply, sinking into the chair
