It's been a few days since I witnessed that horrifying video of Ivan torturing the love of my life. The images haunt me, seared into my mind like a cruel brand. I try to stay strong for the tiny life growing inside me, but it's a constant battle. Every time the memories resurface, tears flow unbidden, and my thoughts spiral into the dark abyss of what horrors Stefano might be enduring at Ivan's merciless hands.
In a desperate attempt to find him, I tried calling the number Ivan used to contact me that fateful day. But it was a futile effort - the calls never connected. He must have used a burner phone, discarding it the moment our conversation ended. The video itself arrived on a phone Ivan mailed to me, a calculated move to avoid leaving a digital trail. As much as I loathe him, I can't deny his cunning. Had he sent it via email or social media, tracing the device back to him would have been far easier.
The Costanzo family has been relentless in their search for Stefano, mobilizing e
