Chapter 6

Dragging my exhausted, aching body, I walked out of the room.

I had left April in Julian's care today.

As April ran inside clutching a pile of toys, Julian suddenly lowered his voice. "The old lady is live-streaming."

I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

"The other day when April and I were waiting for you outside the motel, I heard a clerk complaining about an old woman asking how to get online to speak out. I kept an eye out. I was scrolling social media the past two days, and I found it."

I turned on the TV for April. Seeing she was fully absorbed by the cartoons, I quietly went to my room.

I leaned against the headboard, closed my eyes to think for a moment, then pulled out my phone and found the stream.

Martha's voice came through the speaker.

Still steady, with the occasional blare of a police siren from outside the motel in the background.

A few sporadic comments trickled into the chat.

[Is this real? A Mafia Don dies, his mom suspects the wife, and she's asking for help online?!]

[Got it. Just another old hag trying to grab mob money. Stirring up public opinion for sympathy.]

Martha's time-carved eyes seemed to pierce right through the screen. She suddenly spoke.

"I don't want money. I own thousands of acres of farmland. I don't need their dirty money."

[Right, right. If you don't want money, go to the FBI. Why are you looking for the truth on the internet?]

[For those out of the loop: I run in those circles, and this was literally just an accident. The Don and his wife were deeply in love. They're the couple from that ambush six months ago.]

[Oh, I know that one! That made huge news. Everyone was blown away by their 'til-death-do-us-part romance. I literally cried!]

[I remember too! Silas took a bullet to save Leonora. The wife turning around and killing the husband? I don't buy it for a second!]

[Lady, you should go see a doctor. You can't just accuse someone based on delusions.]

Martha looked at the microphone, speaking calmly:

"I am not crazy. I have already gone to the FBI."

"I'm streaming not for money, not to steal a child, and certainly not to air Family dirty laundry. I just... want the truth for my son."

"When my son Silas was eleven, I was almost hit by a car. He rushed over and pushed me out of the way. He broke four ribs."

"When he was fourteen, he ran in so excited to show me his shooting competition trophy. But that was the day I couldn't take the mob life anymore. I was leaving."

"I still dream about how he looked that day. He grabbed my clothes so carefully, looking so helpless and terrified, crying for me not to go over and over."

A choked sob came through the audio, as if you could see the tears slowly tracking down her deeply lined face.

"A week ago, my son Silas died. Thirty-five years old, in his prime. Drowned in his own pool."

"Everyone tells me it was an accident. But I know it wasn't. Someone murdered him."

"Years ago, I coldly threw off his hand. Now, I've come back for him. I may be a useless farm woman with no power and no connections, but since I'm here, I will never let my son die alone and in the dark."

Her voice was old and tired, but her tone was crystal clear.

The fierce, unbreakable resolve of a grieving mother radiated from her.

The comment section went dead silent.

Then, the messages flooded in.

[I believe this isn't an act. No one can fake that kind of raw emotion.]

[Ma'am, we'll help you!]

[I just recorded this. I'm making clips and sharing them so more people see it. Maybe someone has info.]

I stared at the audio waveform on the screen.

Feeling Martha's unyielding will.