I hated going there. His parents had never warmed to me. Only the old Don, Don Enzo, ever had. To Carlo and Giovanna Castellano, I was a curse. I had given birth to a daughter when all they wanted was a son to carry the bloodline, and when she died, their hatred for me grew sharper, venomous. Every visit, their eyes cut me down like knives, as if I had stolen their heir with my own hands.
Marcello usually avoided bringing me, saying it wasn't worth the stress. But this time his mother, Giovanna, wasn't feeling well. As much as I dreaded it, we had to come.
When we stepped inside, Carlo and Giovanna were smiling, chatting warmly with each other in the sitting room. The second they saw me, their faces turned cold.
My chest tightened. I kept my head lowered, pretending I didn't notice, but Marcello did.
His voice turned sharp. "If you two keep treating Arianna like this, then don't expect us to come back again."