Widow of Shadows J a m e s O. m i l l e r WidOW Of shadOWs The night was a restless thing, swirling with the scent of salt and smoke. A historicAl novel James O. Miller An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Ovi ebooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book Widow of Shadows Widow of Shadows James O. Miller James O. Miller An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C Widow of Shadows sicily, 1943 — The night the War came home T he night was a restless thing , swirling with the scent of salt and smoke. A low wind tugged at the olive branches outside the villa, carrying faint echoes of distant gunfire and the low, ominous growl of thunder rolling over the hills. Somewhere in the darkness, the Mediterranean sea crashed against the cliffs like a warning. Inside, the air was heavy with dust and secrets. A single candle flickered on a battered table, casting long, jittery shadows on the cracked plaster walls. Maria Santoro stood by the window, fingers wrapped James O. Miller tightly around a faded photograph of her husband. Giovanni’s face smiled back at her from the yellowed paper, a kind smile, but one with eyes that held too many stories. She traced his profile with a trembling fingertip. Two days ago, the man she had loved, the father of her child, the soul of her quiet world had been tak- en from her in a way that shattered everything. Not by war, not by accident, but by the deadly secrets he kept. Her heart ached, but it was a different kind of pain that gripped her now: cold, sharp, and edged with fear. For Giovanni hadn’t been just any Sicilian man. Behind the veneer of a modest merchant, he had been a ghost, an unseen hand moving between shad- ows, carrying coded messages from London’s secret service to the hidden bosses of Sicily’s mafia. A nec- essary evil, so the Allies could plan their invasion without tipping their hand. Now, those messages were hers. The secret routes, the names, the plans. The tangled web of alliances and betrayals. The future of the island. Her breath caught as a sudden knock rattled the heavy wooden door, sharp, deliberate, impossible Widow of Shadows to ignore. Maria’s pulse jumped, pounding like war drums in her ears. She spun, muscles coiled, and her hand found the cold steel of the Beretta Giovan- ni had hidden behind the wine rack. Her voice was steady, but her hands betrayed her. “Who’s there?” The door creaked open slowly, and a man stepped inside, his face half-hidden in the flickering candle- light. He wasn’t a friend. Nor was he an enemy, at least, not yet. “Signora Santoro,” he said quietly, his voice rough like gravel. “They know you have it. The codes. The messages.” Maria’s eyes narrowed, fists clenched. “Who?” The courier swallowed hard, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting death to follow. “The Mafia doesn’t forgive, and the Germans don’t wait. You’re the key now, Maria. If you want to survive, you’ll need more than luck.” Outside, the rumble of thunder cracked like a gun- shot. The war was coming to Sicily’s doorstep — re- lentless, unstoppable. And inside this quiet villa, a James O. Miller widow was about to become the fiercest weapon of all. Maria didn’t know if she was ready. But she knew one thing, she would never go down without a fight. * ** * ** * ** * The Sicilian dawn burned like fire through the cracked shutters. Maria Santoro stood on the roof- top of the crumbling villa, eyes sharp as the coastline spread before her like a battlefield waiting to erupt. The Allies were landing. The invasion was no longer whispers in the shadows, it was here. Her hands trembled slightly around the radio transmitter Giovanni had left her, a lifeline to Lon- don and a beacon to chaos. Her heart thudded hard enough to drown out the distant roar of artillery. Behind her, footsteps, fast, deliberate. “Signora Santoro,” Salvatore’s voice was clipped. “They’re clos- ing in. The Germans and the Corleone faction. Both want your head, and both want those codes.” Maria didn’t flinch. “Good. Let’s make sure they don’t get either.” The door burst open. Three men in black suits and Widow of Shadows polished boots poured in, pistols raised. “Put the gun down,” the tallest barked, eyes cold as Sicilian mar- ble. Maria smiled thinly and pulled the Beretta from her coat. “Gentlemen, I was hoping you’d come.” The firefight was brutal, a ballet of smoke and lead. Maria fired from the hip, every shot a promise of retribution. One went down with a grunt, another cursed and took cover behind a dusty crate. Salvatore ducked beside her, revolver blazing. “You always this deadly, or just when you’re an- gry?” he shouted over the noise. “Try me,” she shot back, sliding behind a pillar as bullets ricocheted off stone. Outside, the villa’s courtyard erupted into chaos as more men poured through the gates, Nazis and ma- fiosi, tangled in a violent dance for dominance. The Allies’ distant gunfire was a steady drumbeat urging her on. Maria’s mind raced. The codes, she had to get them out before they fell into the wrong hands. She grabbed the satchel from the floor, heavy with papers and encoded radio gear. James O. Miller Suddenly, a harsh voice cut through the chaos. “Si- gnora!” It was Enzo, the young courier she’d trusted, blood trickling from his temple, eyes wide with pan- ic. “They took the children.” Her blood froze. Her son. Without hesitation, Maria charged out the back door, Salvatore at her heels. The narrow alleyways swallowed their footsteps as they chased shadows through the labyrinthine streets of Palermo. The city was a powder keg, windows shattered, smoke billowing, the wail of sirens mingling with distant explosions. They cornered the kidnappers near the docks, four armed men holding two small figures in their grasp. “Let them go!” Maria’s voice was steel. “Or I swear to God, I’ll blow this place to hell.” A gunman sneered, cocking his rifle. “You don’t have the guts.” Maria smiled, a cold, hard smile. “Try me.” In a blur, she fired twice, precise, deadly. The men dropped, chaos erupting in the narrow street as Widow of Shadows others scrambled to respond. Salvatore covered her flank, bullets tearing the air. She lunged forward, ripping the children free. Her son’s face was streaked with tears and soot, but he was alive. “Ma!” he whispered, clutching her. A sharp whistle split the air. From the shadows, a figure emerged, the mafia capo, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “You’ve been a thorn in my side, Maria. Time to cut you loose.” Maria levelled her Beretta. “Not today.” A brutal melee followed. Fists, knives, and gun- fire, a violent testament to everything Giovanni had warned her about. When the dust settled, Maria stood, breathing hard but unbroken. The capo lay groaning, defeated. She looked at her son and the courier. “This isn’t over,” she said softly, voice rough with exhaustion. “But Sicily... Sicily is still ours to fight for.” The radio crackled, a voice from London breaking through the static: James O. Miller “Operation Husky underway. Good work, Santoro. The Allies thank you.” Maria’s eyes glistened. “Tell them the real battle starts now.” And with that, the widow turned toward the rising sun, fierce, unyielding, a shadow no enemy could kill. THE END Widow of Shadows Widow of Shadows James O. Miller Ovi eBook Publishing 2025 Ovi eBook Publishing Design: Thanos Ovi eBooks are available in Ovi/Ovi eBookshelves pages and they are for free. If somebody tries to sell you an Ovi book please contact us immediately. For details, contact: ovimagazine@yahoo.com No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior permission of the writer or the above publisher of this book An Ovi eBooks Publication 2025 Ovi eBookPublications - All material is copyright of the Ovi eBooks Publications & the writer C James O. Miller J a m e s O. m i l l e r WidOW Of shadOWs The night was a restless thing, swirling with the scent of salt and smoke. A historicAl novel James O. Miller. After 23 years of high school teaching history and four years teaching in Germany retirement didn’t come well espe- cially since I hate gardening and golf. So I decided to exercise my imagination combined with my academic knowledge.