Italian Black Widow

Prologue

Carolina

I am a killer.

People mutter about me behind my back. "Murderess they whisper from behind their hands. Never fully audibly though. No, no I have a veneer of respectability. And people from the patrons of Manor houses to the scum of Diagon Alley, respect respectability.

My husbands died in suspicious circumstances, but no charges were ever brought to my door. Only whispers.

"She flirted with the Aurors."

"She seduced the Judge."

"She bribed the Wizengamot."

Or maybe she is smart enough not to get caught.

My aura of mystery excites the common crowd. Their whispers feed my career. Each murmured slur against me heightens their interest in me. The Italian Black Widow, who entices her prey, then… disposes of it. Some condemn me. Some defend me. All love me.

Did I kill?

You will undoubtedly make up your own mind. Only I have all the facts. And who says I will share them with you? But I will impart this knowledge to you.

I am a killer.

I am not a murderess.