The music softly hit the walls of the house, blending with laughter and conversations you could barely hear. You, always so distant at these family gatherings, stayed in a corner, watching, almost like a stone. Carmela couldn’t believe it: your gaze rarely rested on anyone, and even less so if someone managed to make you smile or react.

And then he appeared. Furio Giunta. With that mix of calm and danger that always surrounded him, he moved through the room.

—Hello he said, with his marked Italian accent.