LOGIN~ELENA~The morgue is colder than death itselfNot just the temperature—but the kind of cold that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones.The moment I step inside, my knees threaten to give out. White walls. White floors. White sheets. Everything feels wrong. Too clean for death. Too quiet for grief. Everything smells like chemicals and loss. My heart starts pounding wildly as the attendant pulls back the sheet.And there she is.My mother.She looks smaller than I remember. Paler. So still it feels wrong….unnatural. My breath leaves in a broken gasp.“Mom…” My voice comes out as a broken whisper.I step closer slowly, like I’m afraid she’ll vanish if I move too fast.Then I see the bruises.Dark marks bloom along her arms. Faint discoloration at her neck. Her face is peaceful, but her body tells a different story.My chest caves in.“No…” I choke.I reach out with trembling fingers and touch her hand.Cold. Too cold.A sob rips out of me before I
~SEVEN DAYS AGO~The night bleeds silence.The phone rings while Lorenzo sits in his study, half a glass of scotch untouched before him. The lamp burns low, painting gold on the papers scattered across his desk. He doesn’t even flinch when the phone vibrates….only glances at the name flashing on the screen.Matteo…One of his boys.He lifts the phone to his ear, voice calm and measured. “Yes.”A pause follows….. too long, too heavy.“Boss…” Matteo’s voice cracks. “It’s… it’s Donna Isabella.”Lorenzo straightens slowly. “What about her?”“There was an ambush on the highway. Two black SUVs, unmarked. We fought back, but….” Matteo swallows. “Her car got hit by a trailer and it got crushed.”The world stills.Lorenzo doesn’t speak. Doesn’t breathe. He just stares into the dim light, expression unreadable.Matteo continues, voice trembling. “It looks like a hit from the Bianchi men. I’m sorry, Boss. We….”The line goes dead.Lorenzo lowers the phone, his reflection trembling in the glass
~ELENA~Two days now and I can't stop thinking about my mom. I miss her so much. So so much that it hurts so bad.I thought I will be fine but I'm realizing that grief doesn’t leave all at once.It stays. It settles into my bones like winter, turning everything cold and slow and heavy.This is the second time I'm feeling this way. First was when my dad died, and now it's my mom.I'm really now an orphan. A girl without no parents.Days pass….at least I think they do. Time has stopped making sense. Morning looks the same as night. Food tastes like nothing. Voices sound distant, like they’re coming from another world I no longer belong to.I barely speak. I barely move.My stepbrothers hover around me like shadows….watching, worrying, whispering when they think I can’t hear. They try to make me eat. Try to distract me. Try to pull me back into a world that no longer has my mother in it.Nothing works.I sit by the window in my room most of the time, knees pulled
~ELENA~“Open the door,” Vincenzo commands. It isn't directed to anyone in particular, but Riccardo walks towards the door.He opens the door, and I see that Vincenzo is right.One of Lorenzo’s men stands there….Marco, the tall one with the scar across his jaw. But this time, he looks… pale. His hands tremble slightly as he removes his cap.Riccardo’s voice is low, sharp. “What is it? Where are you here so early in the morning? Is Father aware of the fact that you're here?” “Yes. I was sent by the boss,” he says, voice cold. I stand, staring curiously at the man in black who is still standing at the door.He doesn’t need to come inside.“Speak up, Marco. Why are you here?” Vincenzo's voice booms. “There’s been… an incident,” the man says quietly. “It happened two nights ago.”“What is the incident all about?” Nico asks.Marco swallows hard, his eyes flicking toward me before he answers. “It’s your mother,” he says quietly. “Donna Isabella.”The word slices
~ELENA~I burst into the house like a storm tearing through glass.“Vincenzo! Nico! Riccardo!”My voice shatters the silence, raw and frantic, echoing down the corridor. My lungs burn as I stumble into the sitting room, chest heaving, heart slamming so violently it feels like it might rip its way out of me.They rush in almost immediately.All three of them.Barefoot. Half-awake. Tense.Vincenzo is first….his eyes sharp despite the hour, body already positioned in front of me like a shield. Nico follows, jaw tight, scanning the room instinctively as if expecting danger to materialize out of thin air. Riccardo comes last, concern etched deep into his face when he sees me.“Elena?” Riccardo says urgently. “What’s wrong?”I bend forward, hands braced on my knees, dragging in air like I’ve been underwater too long.“I— I need to speak to my mom,” I gasp. “Right now. Please. I need to talk to her now.”Vincenzo’s brows draw together. “Your mom?” He steps close
~ELENA~How?How can this be possible?How can a man murder his own wife and daughter?? How can a man be so cold and ruthless?? How can a man be a monster??He's the one training his sons to be cold and ruthless. He's teaching them to be monsters….to kill without emotions.No wonder he wanted a son. He wanted people who would take after him.For Sophia's mother to have been so scared when she saw a gun, she didn't know her husband was in the Mafia family.Was that why she wanted to escape? Did she tell someone about it? And Lorenzo got angry and killed her??That means the brothers aren't safe either. Lorenzo could kill any of them at any time too.I remember seeing so many bruises and marks on their bodies and I'm sure it must have been inflicted by Lorenzo.I remember how he had punished them when they rescued me from Giacomo.I sigh deeply.Sophia must have hidden more. The triplets couldn't find out about this because they couldn't bring themselves to







