Chapter 3

My body had already been taken to the morgue.

Federico stayed in the basement, turning everything upside down like a madman.

Under the bed, through the drawers and cardboard boxes, inside the old wardrobe—he tore through everything, dumping it all onto the floor as the dust choked him and sent him into a violent coughing fit.

"Where are her medical records? Where are her old test results?" he shouted.

A kind neighbor picked my phone up off the floor and handed it to him. "The phone seems to be broken. We were trying to reach you earlier, but we couldn't get it to turn on."

Luca looked around, then fished a plastic bag bound with a rubber band out of a gap in the cabinet and tossed it at Federico's feet. "Stop digging. Her records are all right here."

Federico crouched down and picked them up one sheet at a time, his fingers trembling.

The dates went back three months. The words were printed right there in stark black and white.

"Suspected malignant lesion. Immediate follow-up recommended."

"Two months ago: Tumor markers significantly elevated. Multiple suspected sites of metastasis."

"One month ago: Confirmed advanced-stage malignant tumor. Widespread metastasis. Immediate hospitalization advised."

The most recent sheet was dated last week. In the bottom-right corner was the hospital's red billing stamp, and beside it, someone had written in ballpoint pen, "Payment failed."

Federico swallowed hard. "Why didn't she tell me?"

Luca let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh.

"Didn't tell you? The day she collapsed from the pain in the stairwell, I took her to the hospital. The doctor called her next of kin, and a woman answered."

Julia was standing in the doorway, and the color instantly drained from her face.

Federico turned to Luca. "Who?"

Luca looked toward Julia, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Who else? Her. She answered the phone, said she was your fiancee, and told the doctor never to call that number again."

Tears immediately streamed down Julia's cheeks. "I didn't! I thought she just had anemia. Doctors always exaggerate things, and I didn't want you to worry, so I didn't say anything."

Federico closed in on her, one deliberate step at a time, his voice dangerously low. "So you did take a call from the doctor?"

Julia flinched and backed away. "Maybe… I don't really remember the details…"

Federico pulled out his phone and called one of his Soldati. "Pull the hospital's call logs."

Julia bit her lip and said nothing more.

Just then, Federico's phone rang.

Claudia's name appeared on the screen. He answered, and her voice came through, chillingly composed.

"She's dead, so our top priority is killing the story. No one outside can know she died of an illness in a place like that. The official line is that she'd struggled with depression for a long time and took her own life after an emotional breakdown."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Federico gripped the phone until his knuckles turned white. "Mamma, you knew she was sick?"

Claudia paused for a beat before answering in a measured voice, "I knew a little. Julia mentioned it to me, so I had someone check with the doctors. Apparently, the treatment wasn't cheap."

Federico's voice cracked. "So all of you knew."

Claudia's voice turned ice-cold. "Don't be foolish, Federico. She was an orphan, and treating an illness like that is a bottomless pit.

"You're taking over as Don next month. We can't afford any trouble right now. And there was nothing wrong with her choosing to die. It proves she really did love you and didn't want to drag you down."

Hovering off to the side, I suddenly recalled that afternoon.

I'd been huddled in a hospital corridor with my medical records clutched in my hand, calling Federico.

The phone had rung for a long time before someone finally picked up, but the voice was Julia's.

"Sera? This is Julia. Federico's busy. Stop guilt-tripping him over every little ache and pain. He's tired enough as it is."

After that day, I never dared call that number again.

It wasn't that I didn't want to live. It was because, by then, they'd cut off every way I had of asking for help.