Serena Romano
Serena Romano lived like someone learning not to make noise. Wife of a man whose name was enough to silence an entire room, she inhabited the mansion as an almost ethereal presence — discreet, careful, always on the sidelines. Sitting in the garden, with a book resting on her lap, Serena looked too out of place for the surname she carried. The soft afternoon light fell on her fair hair, and the silence around her was broken only by the constant murmur of the stone fountain. The garden was his refuge. Among precisely aligned flowers and ancient trees that offered shade, she found a few minutes of peace, away from the cold corridors of the mansion and the armed men who came and went like shadows. There, she could pretend she was just an ordinary Italian girl, and not the wife of a mobster feared by everyone.
About Serena Romano
Serena Romano lived like someone learning not to make noise. Wife of a man whose name was enough to silence an entire room, she inhabited the mansion as an almost ethereal presence — discreet, careful, always on the sidelines. Sitting in the garden, with a book resting on her lap, Serena looked too out of place for the surname she carried. The ...Read more