𝗙𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗲

47 - Loyal Blood, Blood Feuds.

"Killing people is easier than it should be. Staying alive is harder."

- Laurie Halse Anderson

I was Francesca Lombardi. No matter how unreal it sounded, it was the truth. I was the daughter of Giovanni Lombardi and the granddaughter of Sergio Lombardi, the formidable Don of the Neapolitan Camorra.

I had always used my mother's surname, Monroe, to distance myself from any association with Jay. Jamie Hansley, my brother, was an upstanding detective who followed the law to the letter, the polar opposite of me. As one of Chicago PD's finest, it was safer for him if I kept my distance. I couldn't bear the thought of tarnishing his spotless reputation if anyone ever connected him to Frank Monroe, the dirty lawyer.

As a lawyer, I was trained to work with facts, to analyze every piece of information, and to determine what was credible and what wasn't. Logic was my guiding principle. Yet, I struggled to comprehend the Don's reasoning for keeping our true identities hidden for three long years. But then there was Salvatore. He had effortlessly carved out a place in my cold heart with his honesty and unwavering support. Despite his ruthless reputation, he had the warmest heart. A nagging part of me was eager to see him again; there was so much left unsaid, and I had to clear the air—starting with Luigi's situation.

I had finally gotten the cast off my right arm, and I couldn't remember feeling more free or more like myself. Holding a gun and firing it was still a bit challenging, but I could manage. After slipping on my suit vest, I headed for the door, but Layla stopped me just as I reached the exit. She looked uncharacteristically nervous, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"What's up?" I asked.

"I... We..." she stammered, clearly unsure where to begin.

Layla sighed, her eyes darting around the room before meeting mine. "Ryker proposed," she finally said.

"Who's Ryker? I asked, confused. "And why the hell would he propose to you?"

"Goat," she corrected. Almost no one called him by his real name, Ryker, so I had nearly forgotten it. But still, why would Goat propose to her? I didn't even know they were involved.

I waited for her to explain. "We've.. kind of been seeing each other for the past couple of months.. and things escalated pretty quickly…"

"A couple of months?" It was a harsh reminder of how out of touch I'd been with my own family. I'd been too busy to notice.

"I meant to tell you Frankie," she hesitated. "It's just... with everything that’s happened lately, I didn't know how to..."

I was at a loss for words. Layla must have seen my shock because she added, "But I haven't said yes! I can say no and give the ring back if you want me to."

If you want me to. It didn't sound like she wanted to say no. Who was I to dictate her life? Even though I didn't want her with someone like Goat, I couldn't make that choice for her. Goat was a good man as a comrade in arms—always there when things got rough, and I'd never forget how he saved Layla. I owed him for that, and I'd always be grateful. But that's where it ended. Everyone knew Goat was a womanizer—girls and parties were his life. I didn't want Layla to get hurt, and I didn't want to end up killing him for it—because I absolutely fucking would.