Page 1 of Beneath the Shadows
Prologue
ANTONIO
The flickering glow of candlelight casts dancing shadows upon the walls of the underground room beneath my restaurant. I stand inside what looks like a crude dungeon, a stone alcove, off our main room, my face illuminated by the wavering gas-powered flames.
"It's said that blood is thicker than water," I begin, my voice echoing through the room. "But loyalty is a currency more valuable than gold. And yet, for all the years I've dedicated to this family, all the sacrifices made in the name of honor and duty, I've been repaid with betrayal and humiliation."
I pause, my hand tracing the rough edges of what appears to be ancient stones, my mind consumed by memories of past slights and injustices.
Above me, the Procession of the Saints, with all its pomp and circumstance, is about to start. My restaurant is filling with people unaware of what's about to occur beneath them.
"Valentino Comiso, my own flesh and blood," I continue, my voice tinged with bitterness. "He may wear the mantle of leadership, but his heart is black as coal. He's squandered the trust of our family. Tarnished the honor of our name, and for what? Power? Prestige? It no longer matters. His sins cry out for retribution, and I am the instrument of justice."
With each word, my resolve hardens, my gaze unyielding as I stare into the darkness ahead.
"And so, I intend to see Valentino pay for his crimes. No stone will go unturned, and no deed will be left unpunished. The time for reckoning has come, and I will be the architect of his downfall."
And with that solemn oath, I set in motion a chain of events that will forever alter the course of my family's legacy, plunging us into a darkness from which there will be no return.
Antonio
The afternoon sunfilters weakly through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the table where I’m having lunch with my mother. She’s finished her lunch, but I’m still pushing mine around on my plate, my appetite lacking from my earlier conversation with Alessia.
I came here to talk to my father about a shipment we’re expecting this week, one that needs to be funneled throughCasa delle Ombre, the restaurant my father runs to launder money forLa Famiglia. With everything moving so fast, and this being our most important front, we need to make sure the paperwork is airtight.
But my father left early with Cecilia. He’s letting her get more involved with the business than I think she should be.
I glance at my mother, trying to keep my frustration in check. “I don’t get why he’s doing this. Why let her in?”
She sets her cup down carefully, eyes calm. “Your sister’s smart, Anton. She wants to prove she can handle the hotel.”
“She shouldn’t be handling any of it,” I snap, my voice sharper than intended. “This world isn’t for her.”
“Cecilia’s not a little girl anymore,” my mother replies evenly. “She’s nearly finished with her degree, and more importantly, your father trusts her.”
I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “He’s letting her get too close. I don’t think she understands what she’s getting into.”
“She’s stronger than you give her credit for,” my mother says quietly, though I can sense her patience thinning. “You can’t protect her forever.”
“I can’t believe you’re okay with this.” I shake my head and push my plate away. “Cecilia shouldn’t be involved at all.”
A pause lingers between us before she speaks again. “Your father wants to give her a chance, Antonio. She’s capable. You have to let her grow.”
I don’t want to argue with her, so I say nothing. Cecilia’s strong, sure, but this isn’t about strength. It’s about the danger, the target she’s putting on her back when she doesn’t need to.
The doorbell rings, breaking the tension. “I’ll get it,” Mom says as she stands, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Earlier this morning, Valentino saw me talking to Alessia. It was a brief encounter, nothing more than a few tense words, but I knew it would rub him the wrong way. And here he is. As soon as I hear the front door creak open, his voice oozing false charm as he greets my mother, I know my cousin’s not here for a friendly visit.
“Valentino, it’s so nice to see you,” Mom greets him, her voice warm as always.
“It’s good to see you, too, Aunt Nicki,” Vigo replies smoothly. “Is Antonio still around?”
“He’s in the kitchen having a late lunch,” she answers.
“Thank you,” he says, his tone light but insincere. The second I hear his voice, my appetite disappears and I throw the rest of my lunch in the trash.
Unlike Vigo, I respect my mother and refuse to have this conversation with her in the other room. I push open the French doors to the backyard, stepping out just as I hear him enter the kitchen. The door clicks shut behind me, and I can feel him there, right at my back.