Chapter 6 - THE MASK OF LORENZO
Lorenzo was a man of smiles and smooth words,
the kind of man who could convince a saint to sin.
He was the one who managed the money,
the one who talked to the politicians,
and the one who knew every secret Salvatore possessed.
He began to visit the garden during the day,
bringing gifts for Toby and stories for me.
He signed with a fluid,
practiced ease that felt different from Salvatore's honest movements.
"Salvatore is a great man,"
Lorenzo signed to me one afternoon,
"but he is stubborn."
"He doesn't realize that a war requires sacrifices."
"He is putting the whole family at risk to keep you here."
I felt a cold knot of guilt tightening in my stomach.
"I never asked for this,"
I signed back.
"I know,"
Lorenzo signed,
his smile never reaching his eyes,
"but you are a smart woman, Tessa."
"You know that a king cannot rule from a garden."
He left me with those words,
a poison that began to seep into my thoughts.
I began to watch Salvatore more closely,
noticing the way his shoulders slumped when he thought I wasn't looking.
I saw the dark circles under his eyes and the way his hands would sometimes cramp from the tension.
I realized that Lorenzo was right—I was a weakness.
That night,
I waited for Salvatore in the library.
When he walked in,
I didn't let him sit down.
"I have to leave, Salvatore,"
I signed,
my heart breaking with every movement.
"I'm hurting you,"
"and I'm hurting the people who depend on you."
Salvatore froze,
his face turning into a mask of stone.
"Who told you this?"
he signed,
his movements sharp and angry.
"It doesn't matter,"
I signed,
"I can see it for myself."
"You're fighting a war with one hand tied behind your back because of me."
He stepped forward,
gripping my shoulders with his large hands.
"I'm fighting this war because of you!"
he signed,
his face flushed with emotion.
"Before you,"
"there was nothing to fight for but pride and territory."
"You gave me a reason to want a future."
"If you leave,"
"the war is already lost."
I looked into his eyes,
seeing the desperation and the love,
and I knew I couldn't go.
But at that moment,
the library doors burst open.
Rico,
the head of the guards,
ran in,
his face covered in blood.
"The gates are breached!"
he signed frantically.
"It’s Lorenzo!"
"He opened the doors from the inside!"
The sound of gunfire suddenly erupted from the hallway,
a muffled,
rhythmic pounding that felt like a heartbeat.
Salvatore didn't hesitate.
He pulled a gun from his waistband and pushed me behind the heavy oak desk.
"Stay down!"
he signed,
his eyes burning with a deadly light.
He turned toward the door,
the deaf mafia boss who was no longer a man in a garden,
but a predator in his own den.
May you like
I watched as the men in black masks poured into the room,
and the silence of the library was shattered forever.
