The Burned Moretti Princess

"My little angel, what is it? Do you miss me?"

I heard a sweet voice from the other end. I didn't need to guess to know it was Liliana.

"I'm fine, just haven't been sleeping well. The family's dealing with some trouble. Don't worry about it."

At the sound of her concerned voice, Lorenzo's shoulders visibly relaxed.

"My angel, you just wait for me at home. I'll be back to see you as soon as I've cleaned up this mess… Yes, I know. I'll be careful."

Lorenzo cooed at Liliana, but then his tone suddenly changed in response to something she said.

"Don't you worry, I'll make Isabella admit, in her own words, that she plagiarized your work for that design degree. If she won't, I'll make her admit it on her knees."

"I'll make her apologize for her insolence."

"Alright, baby, don't be sad. Wait for me at the estate. It's not safe on the streets right now. If you go out, remember to take a bodyguard and let me know."

Listening to my brother's deep, magnetic voice comforting her, I felt a pain like a knife twisting in my heart.

I raised a hand to wipe away my tears, only to grasp at empty air. I was dead. I had no form.

The brother who once would have burned down half of Chicago for me, who would have laid the entire underworld at my feet.

Now, he didn't even see me.

We shared the same Moretti blood, yet he refused to believe his own sister, preferring to trust an outsider with a mysterious past.

She stole my designs! Why won't you believe me?

"By the way, brother, you absolutely have to come to my celebration on Sunday night. I have a very special surprise for you."

Liliana's sickly sweet voice continued through the phone.

Alarm bells screamed in my mind. I reached out, trying desperately to shake my brother's arm, screaming the words in my soul.

"Don't go, Lorenzo! Liliana… she's going to kill you!"

But it was obvious Lorenzo couldn't feel my presence at all.

He just smiled fondly. "Don't worry, I'll clean up this mess as fast as I can, then I'll come home to you."

After hanging up, Lorenzo saw Silvio still frowning in thought.

He clapped the old consigliere on the shoulder. "Alright, Silvio. I'm going to check the body again, see if I missed any rival family markings. There has to be a clue. Stop worrying."

Silvio grabbed his wrist. "Wait. I just called Isabella, but she didn't answer. You try. She'll definitely pick up for you."

Lorenzo impatiently shook his hand off. "I don't have time for that.

The family's business is already a headache. I don't have time for her childish games."

Unable to persuade him, Silvio could only shake his head and sigh.

Lorenzo strode into the family's private mortuary, once again coming face to face with my corpse.

He took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down, then pulled on a pair of latex gloves and began methodically examining my charred remains for any gang tattoos or identification marks.

As he examined what remained of my left hand, his fingers traced over the charred bones.

Suddenly, he froze.

My non-existent heart hammered with a frantic hope.

That's my brother. Was he finally going to recognize me?

That slightly crooked little finger. Twelve years ago, when our father was being hunted by a rival family, we were on the run.

I broke it in a street fight to protect him from being bullied by some Calabrese punk.

Lorenzo, who was only fifteen at the time, was sick with regret.

He wrapped my wound with his own white handkerchief and carried me all the way back to the family compound.

That night, he held me as I cried, apologizing over and over again.

Though the finger healed, it was left with a subtle curve that only the people closest to me would ever notice.

I was sure that if he felt this small secret we shared, he would recognize me.

But just at that crucial moment, his second-in-command, Vince, rushed in.

"Don, the Torrino family is making a move at the east-side port. They might be coming after our business."

Vince was nervous and anxious, his forehead beaded with sweat.

Lorenzo's attention was instantly diverted. He glanced at my wrist with annoyance, then roughly dropped my hand.

And just like that, the moment was lost. Our only chance.

"Damn it! They're trying to stir up trouble while we're distracted!" He glanced quickly at his watch. "Get the men together. Let's go pay them a visit."

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps came from outside.

Lorenzo stepped out of the mortuary to see a young soldier running towards him, looking thrilled.

"Don, my sister's home safe!" the soldier exclaimed, his eyes shining with tears of relief. "Thank you for helping me find her!"

I remembered the soldier. He was one of Lorenzo's closest men, and he'd been distracted and on the verge of tears for days.

Lorenzo had asked him what was wrong and learned that his sister, who was studying out of state, had been out of contact for a day. The soldier was worried sick.

So Lorenzo had sent men to help him search. "I understand," he'd said at the time. "If it were my sister, I'd be worried to death, too."

Hearing those words again, I felt a pang of sadness, but more than that, confusion.

My brother, who could mobilize the family's resources to help a subordinate find a sister who'd been out of contact for a day.

I had been missing for four days, yet he was still calling me willful and childish.

It was laughable.

Why wasn't he worried about me? Or was I simply not worthy of his concern?

It didn't matter. I was trapped in this ring. No one could see my despair anyway.

The brother whose eyes and heart were once filled with only me was gone forever.

After the soldier left, a dead silence fell over the mortuary.

Only Lorenzo and my charred body remained, the atmosphere suffocatingly heavy.