“That is a lie!” I screamed. “I have never seen him before tonight!”

Gianni walked toward me, his heavy boots thudding against the floor.

He grabbed my small satin evening bag from the table and dumped its contents next to Alessandro’s plate.

A small gold lipstick, a lace handkerchief, and a tiny glass vial rolled out onto the wood.

The vial was empty, save for a trace of white powder.

“Where did that come from?” I whispered, my heart freezing in my chest. “That wasn’t in there.”

“We found the poison,” Gianni said, looking at the other men. “She murdered the Don.”

The men around the table muttered, their faces hardening into masks of hatred as they drew their weapons.

Matteo stood up slowly from his uncle’s body, his hands stained with Alessandro’s blood.

He looked at the empty vial on the table, then at the servant who was weeping by the wall, and finally at Gianni’s phone, which was still buzzing on the table.

The screen showed an incoming call from an unknown number.