A Deadly Divorce

That day, I knelt beside the hospital bed and cried helplessly for a long, long time.

My tears dried up. My throat went hoarse. Still, I could not stop.

The nurse, who had cared for my mother all this time, had red eyes as she told me my mother’s last words.

"Your mother kept calling your name at the very end. She said that no matter why you didn’t make it in time, she doesn’t blame you. She only hoped that you and your husband would live well together.

"She also said Dante is a good child and that she hadn’t misjudged him back then. She told you not to blame him, to cherish him."

Hearing this, my heart felt as if it was being torn apart by hands.

My mother died without ever knowing the truth. She died believing Dante was a good man. She died thinking only of my happiness.

And me?

I didn’t even get to see her one last time.

I held my mother’s cold hand and sat dazed on the floor, silent for a long time.

The procedures that followed became a blur.

Returning to our hometown. Cremation. The funeral.

Everything felt like it was happening inside a dream.

I went through every step mechanically, my insides terrifyingly hollow.

In the end, I sat alone in a plain funeral parlor. It was empty all around me. Not a single person came to pay their respects.

After all, the Falcone family had already sent word. Anyone who dared attend the funeral of Sofia Rossi’s mother would be declaring war on the Falcone family, on the entire Boston underworld.

The neighbors who had once been close to my mother didn’t dare show their faces.

I kept vigil alone and placed one final call to Dante.

At the very least, he should have come to see the woman, who once funded his education, and send my mother off on her final journey.

When the call connected, I realized my voice was already so hoarse it barely sounded human. I used all my strength just to force out those few words.

"Mom... passed away."

However, the voice that came through the phone was Olivia’s soft and sweet tone.

"Oh, that’s unfortunate, but Dante doesn’t have time to see you right now. He’s with me at a very important summit jointly hosted by the American Medical Association and the family’s foundation. We just finished a surgical demonstration. We’re heading to a champagne party to celebrate."

"Who was that?" Dante’s voice followed. His tone was light, even amused. Clearly, he was in a very good mood.

I hung up the phone numbly.

I knelt in front of the funeral parlor for three days and three nights, without sleep. My mind replayed every fragment of my mother’s life over and over again.

How she scrimped and saved to send me to college.

How she stayed up all night caring for me when I was sick.

How she stood up for me when I was bullied.

As for me, I didn’t even get to see her one last time.

After that, I returned calmly to Boston.

I bought a plane ticket. I sorted through my assets and took care of everything that needed to be handled.

Finally, I agreed to divorce Dante.