It's been a week already. Velmont moves on fast; the city has no patience for the dead. Giovanni's name and the incident itself are brushed under a rug—just like everything else that happens on the underside of the city.
It's morning again. Phones ring through the halls, clipped voices echoing off the walls and grating in my ears. Alessandro's people handle the diplomacy between our family and the Rossis, drafting condolence statements that mean nothing: 'our family grieves with yours, a tragedy for all of Velmont.'
Empty things like that.
I'm halfway through another revision when Sofia comes into my office without knocking, as usual. She's either here to piss me off or here to gossip, and I have no idea which it could be this time. Probably both.
"Cugina, have you seen the reports?" Sofia asks, a devious glint in her eye.
Yep, definitely both. I'm already irritated just hearing her voice. My eyes narrow and I ask dryly, "Which ones?"
