Chapter 122 – Daphne POV
This is so exhausting.
How long is a funeral really supposed to last? Because I'm convinced we've circled back into some purgatorial overtime.
The sun is already starting to sink behind the trees, casting long shadows across the Castellano family cemetery. Everything here is too clean. Too manicured. Marble tombs, sculpted angels, tall iron gates. Every corner polished like death itself needs a PR team.
We've been here the whole day.
The procession. The service. The staged grief. Now the final burial.
The coffin is being lowered into the ground—slowly, reverently, like it's afraid to wake the dead already buried here.
This cemetery has housed Castellano Dons for… I don't know how many generations. Five? Six? At this point, they might as well dig up a separate wing for all the family secrets and skeletons that never made it to the box.
I stand by the edge of the grave, wrapped in shadow and black lace, watching as the first of the tokens are dropped.
