I sank down slowly onto the edge of the bed, my body giving out beneath me. Exhaustion washed over me in waves, heavy and suffocating. I felt broken… completely shattered. Somewhere beyond the bedroom door, the compound hummed with preparations for Don Montecarlo's arrival. Silver being polished. Soldiers checking the perimeter. The whole estate performing its loyalty. And here I sat, in the silence they left behind, pressing two fingers against the inside of my left wrist where my mother's bracelet once sat. The press deepened into a grip.
But then something caught my eye.
A small slip of paper, barely visible, sticking out from beneath my pillow.
My brows furrowed. That hadn't been there before.
With trembling fingers, I reached for it and pulled it out.
Something else came with it.
Photos.
No… not just photos.
My photo.
The one I had kept hidden. The only picture I had left of my parents. The last piece of my old life I had managed to protect in this house that had taken everything else from me.
Or at least… it had been.
Now it was destroyed.
Shredded into countless tiny fragments, each piece torn cleanly, deliberately, like someone had taken their time to make sure it could never be whole again.
My breath hitched violently. My hand flew to my mouth, but it did nothing to stop the sob that tore out of me.
Then I saw the note.
Written in messy, childish handwriting.
"We told you to leave. Next time, it won't just be a photo."
My fingers curled tightly around the torn pieces, crushing them in my fist as my entire body shook uncontrollably.
Why?
Why this?
That picture… it was all I had left. Of my parents. Of my past. Of the life I used to have before everything fell apart.
I pressed the broken pieces against my chest, as if I could somehow hold them together, as if I could stop the pain from spreading any further.
Memories flooded in without warning.
Gianna climbing into my bed in the middle of the night when she had nightmares, her tiny hands clutching my sleeve. Matteo holding onto my fingers tightly when he stuttered in front of others, looking to me for reassurance. Lucia hiding behind me whenever she was scared, peeking out from my back like I was her shield.
All those nights I stayed awake for them.
All those tears I wiped away.
All those lullabies I sang until my voice went hoarse.
And yet…
Not once. Not even for a second. Did they ever see me as their mother.