Chapter 3

"Yeah, doesn't she feel out of place?"

I kept my head down like a walking corpse, oblivious to everything around me.

"She's walking toward Leonora."

"Is she here to cause trouble? This is a Don's funeral."

A pair of old, mud-caked cowboy boots entered my line of sight.

They were rough, the leather heavily worn, as if telling a story of how much wilderness they had crossed.

"Leonora, do you recognize me?"

A slightly weathered voice spoke.

It was very close. Right by my ear.

I slowly looked up.

Before me was the weather-beaten face of an old woman.

Her skin was dry and wrinkled, her temples gray, but beneath her drooping eyelids, her gaze was piercing.

Amidst the luxuriously dressed mourners, she wore a grossly out-of-place, old flannel shirt.

One arm hooked through a faded leather bag, the other clutching a battered cowboy hat.

"I'm Martha. The mother-in-law you've never met."

I stared at her blankly.

My exhausted brain struggled to process, connect, fire... my eyes suddenly widened:

"Martha?"

Martha nodded slowly.

"Good that you recognize me."

The Family's soldiers immediately closed in, trying to intervene.

"So it's the old Mrs. Vexille. Sigh, a mother burying her son. Our deepest condolences."

"It's good you're here. The family needs to support each other so Leonora and the girl aren't so alone."

Someone kindly offered to take Martha's bag. She slowly shook her head, refusing.

She casually swatted away the gun barrel peeking from a soldier's waistband.

She looked at Silas's portrait, then looked straight at me.

"The day I heard of my son's death, I drove overnight from my farm in Texas, just to tell everyone one thing."

She stared at me, her expression resolute, enunciating every single word.

"You are the one who murdered my son."

After dropping that line, Martha turned and left. No one could stop her.

She appeared out of nowhere.

And vanished just as quickly.

As if she existed solely to deliver that one sentence.

Everyone exchanged looks, then rushed to comfort me.

"Leonora, the old lady is probably just delirious from grief. Ignore her. You can't afford to be upset right now."

"Yeah, she's out of the loop and doesn't know the facts. She probably heard some rumors and took them seriously. We'll have the boys handle it."

"I've never even seen the Don's mother before. Shows up right when he dies... is she here for the inheritance?"

"I haven't even heard of her! Leonora, she said you two had never met. Are you sure that was really Silas's mother?"

I didn't speak. I was so weak I could barely stand.

An elder handed me a glass of red wine.

"Alright, alright, stop asking questions. The most important thing is to finish the funeral and let Leonora rest. The Family will handle everything else."

I looked down, taking a few sips of the wine. My head cleared a little.

Yes.

Martha was indeed Silas's biological mother.

Eight years ago, when Silas and I got married, I saw her for the first time on a video call.

When Silas was fourteen, she couldn't take the mob life anymore and divorced his father.

She left everything behind to run a farm in Texas. They were estranged for years.

After the previous Don died and Silas took power, he finally tracked her down and tried to bring her to New York to retire.

She refused. She said when she left, she swore she would never step foot in New York again.

Over the years, Silas flew out to Texas to see her twice.

And I only ever spoke to her briefly on video calls once a year, on April's birthday.

Right now, I was drowning in deep confusion and bewilderment.

I didn't understand why this tough farm woman, who swore never to return, had suddenly traveled all this way.

Why did she suddenly say something like that to me?

In my grief, it made zero sense...

After the funeral, Martha didn't leave New York.

She stayed.

Naturally, she didn't stay at the estate. She checked into a rundown motel.

Late at night, the bright moon hung high, watching over the joys and sorrows of the world.

I sat alone, looking at Silas's belongings and wiping my tears, and made a decision.

No matter why she came.

The child.

The money.

Or some misunderstanding.

She was still my husband's mother. April's grandmother.

I couldn't just ignore her and leave her on the streets.