Blood Oath Broken The Don's Regret

"I'm Nico Volpe, and I want to make a confession to the woman I love."

Sleep had abandoned me hours ago. In the hollow darkness of the Volpe estate, I reached for the radio on my nightstand—a relic from another era, kept because the static reminded me of simpler times. The dial crackled, and then his voice poured through the speakers like aged whiskey, rich and magnetic.

My husband's voice. The same husband who hadn't spoken a word to me in three months.

The same husband who suffered from selective mutism—or so I had been told.