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Chapter 113

MARCO

The night was heavy with tension as I turned slowly, the sound of my full name echoing in the cold air. The moment I faced her, I saw an elderly woman, frail and trembling, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the dim streetlights. She was dressed in black, a scarf tied tightly around her head, and her hands were wringing together in front of her as if she was holding back all her grief in those hands.

“Chi sei?” I asked, my voice gruff, though I could feel the weight of her sorrow before she even spoke.

Tony immediately stepped forward, putting himself between us. “Marco, I’ll handle this.”

I raised my hand, motioning for him to step aside. Something about the woman pulled me in. Maybe it was the tears in her eyes, or maybe it was the way she stood there, unshaken by Tony’s intimidating stance. “Lasciala parlare, Tony,” I said quietly.

The woman sniffed, stepping closer. “Sono… la madre,” she said, her voice breaking. “Mio figlio… il mio Paolo… mio figlio è morto!” Her words w
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