Emilio arrived late to his mother’s Mafia funeral carrying a suitcase from a tropical vacation.

I ran from the basement.

I had to find Father. I had to tell him what Emilio had just said.

My heart pounded in my chest. Each step echoed through the empty hallway. The house felt different now. Menacing. Like the walls themselves were hiding secrets.

I found Father in his study. He sat behind his massive oak desk, staring at a photograph of him and Mother on their wedding day.

He looked up when I burst in. His eyes were red. His face was pale.

"Lucia?" He stood up. "What's wrong? Did Emilio hurt you?"

"No," I said. I was breathless. "Father, we need to talk. About Mother. About how she died."

He frowned. "What are you talking about? The doctors said it was her heart. The stress, the illness—"

"I think it was more than that."

I told him everything. Emilio's confession about Clarissa paying for the trip. The inheritance that didn't make sense. Clarissa picking up Mother's medication every week. The timing of everything.

Father listened in silence. His face grew darker with each word. When I finished, he sat back down heavily.

"Clarissa," he said. The name sounded like a curse on his lips. "I never trusted her. From the moment Emilio brought her home, I knew she was trouble. But this? To harm Helena? To kill my wife?"

"We don't know for sure," I said. "But it's too much of a coincidence. Everything lines up too perfectly."

Father picked up the phone on his desk. He dialed a number from memory.

"Vincenzo," he said. "I need you. Now. Bring the discreet ones."

He hung up.

"Vincenzo is our investigator," he said. "The best. He'll find the truth. Whatever it takes."

Twenty minutes later, Vincenzo arrived. He was a small, quiet man with sharp eyes that missed nothing. He'd worked for our family for twenty years. Father trusted him with his life.

Father explained the situation. Vincenzo listened, taking notes in a small notebook.

"I'll need access to the pharmacy records," Vincenzo said. "The medication bottles. Mrs. Moretti's medical files. And I'll need to speak with the nurses who cared for her."

"Anything you need," Father said. "Find out if my wife was murdered."

Vincenzo nodded and left.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Father looked at me. "You should get some sleep, Lucia. It's been a long day."

"Sleep?" I shook my head. "How can I sleep when we're talking about someone poisoning Mother? When Clarissa might have killed her?"

"We don't know that yet," he said gently. "We have to wait for Vincenzo's findings."

"But if it's true..." My voice trembled. "If she really hurt Mother..."

Father stood up and walked around the desk. He put his hands on my shoulders.

"Then justice will be served," he said. "I promise you that. No one hurts your mother and gets away with it. No one."

I wanted to believe him. But I was scared. Scared of what we might find. Scared of what it would mean for our family.

"Father," I said. "What about Emilio? Did he know? Is he part of this?"

Father's jaw tightened.

"I don't know," he said. "And right now, I don't care. He made his choices. He abandoned his mother. If he had any part in this..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

I left the study and walked toward the kitchen. I needed water. I needed air.

As I passed the living room, I heard voices.

Clarissa's voice.

The bodyguards must have brought her up from the basement. She was in the living room, talking to someone.

I pressed myself against the wall, just out of sight.

"...you don't understand," Clarissa was saying. "Emilio is the one who wanted to go. I tried to tell him we should stay. I tried to be a good wife. But he's so selfish. He only thinks about himself."

My blood boiled. She was lying. She was actually lying and blaming Emilio.

"I know it looks bad," she continued. "But I loved Mrs. Moretti. She was like a mother to me. I would never do anything to hurt her. Never."

I couldn't listen anymore. I stepped into the room.

Clarissa was sitting on the sofa, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Two bodyguards stood by the door. When she saw me, she stood up.

"Lucia," she said. Her voice was sickeningly sweet. "Thank God you're here. You have to believe me. I tried to stop Emilio from booking that trip. I really did. But he insisted—"

"Shut up."

My voice was cold. Sharper than I'd ever heard it.

Clarissa blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said shut up." I walked toward her. "I know you paid for the trip. I know there's no inheritance from a distant aunt. I know you were the one who picked up Mother's medication every week. And I know you're lying about everything."

Her face went pale. Then, just as quickly, the mask of innocence fell away. Her eyes hardened. Her lips twisted into a sneer.

"And what are you going to do about it?" she said. "You have no proof. Just theories. Just the ravings of a grieving daughter who wants someone to blame."

"Vincenzo is investigating," I said. "He'll find the truth."

Clarissa laughed. A cold, sharp sound.

"Vincenzo?" she said. "Your father's lapdog? He'll find whatever your father tells him to find. And if your father is smart, he'll let this go. Because if he digs too deep, he might find things he doesn't want to know. Things about his precious son. Things about his beloved wife."

"What are you talking about?"

She stepped closer to me. Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Your mother wasn't the saint everyone thinks she was, Lucia. She had secrets. Dark secrets. And Emilio... well, Emilio is more like his father than he wants to admit. You think you know this family? You have no idea."

She smiled. A cruel, knowing smile.

"Be careful what you dig for, little sister. You might just bury us all."

Before I could respond, the front door opened. Vincenzo walked in. His face was grim.

He looked at me, then at Clarissa.

"Mr. Moretti is in the study," he said quietly. "He needs to see us both. Immediately."

He didn't need to say more. The look on his face told me everything.