The Madre's Superglue Revenge
On the day my sight returned, our family doctor, Anna Leone, stood right in front of me and mouthed to my husband, Don Marco Vitale, "Double the lubricant tonight. I promise it'll send you straight to heaven, my Don."
Marco pressed a gentle kiss to my eyes. Then he turned away and replied with the same silent lip movements, "You little tease. That mouth of yours—and the one below—I'm crazy about them both."
The two of them exchanged a knowing smile, convinced their secret was flawless.
What they didn't know was that not only had my vision fully recovered—I was also fluent in lip-reading.
My gaze drifted to the bottle of lubricant sitting brazenly in the wall cabinet.
I said nothing.
Instead, I quietly sent a single text message: [Papa, I've decided to come home.]
In three days, I would vanish completely.
All I would leave behind for them would be the hollowed-out fortune of billions—and that bottle of "lubricant" I had replaced with high-strength industrial superglue.