Chapter 102. Separated from the Mafia Don

Proserpina

The children spoke to Lucien every day, twice a day. Without fail. Even if it was midnight in the US, he would be wide awake, smiling, listening to their excited chatter indulgently. He seemed eager to hear them, to see them and terribly reluctant to stop their long conversations. We barely exchanged a few clipped words. It hurt me but I carried on with a brave face.

***

Lucien

Lucien hated to see them go, his wife and his children. But he wanted her to make up her mind, to explore, and to live. In his heart he knew he trusted her; she would never look at another man. Now he waited for the calls from his twins; listening to them eased his loneliness in the great mausoleum of a house that was empty and seemed devoid of noise.

How had he lived here before Proserpina and the children had come and made his house a home, he wondered as he sat in the huge dining hall, eating silently.

The food seemed tasteles