Reinvigorated, I head back upstairs to find Ezio and start researching the Condore family. I find him at his desk. Upon seeing me, he leans back in his chair and fixes his gaze on me.

"Let's start the research on the Condores; I don't want to waste any more time."

"I've already put a detective on it. That's why I wasn't here when you woke up this morning; I had a meeting with him."

"Oh, very well, can we handle the computer part then ?"

"Indeed, we can."

I pull up a chair next to Ezio, and he shifts his computer so we can both see the screen. He looks at me with a hint of disappointment.

"You could have sat on my lap."

"Not when we're working, and especially not when I'm mad at you. This is more comfortable, and we could be at it for hours."

My phone beeps, notifying me of a message. I frown when I realize it's Gioele contacting me privately through social media.

"May, I'm so sorry for what happened to you. Know that your true fans are here for you and will do everything to protect you. You are not alone. - G"

I sigh and place my phone face down on the desk.

"Everything alright ?" Ezio asks, alternating his gaze between the phone and my eyes.

"Yes, just a message of support, but I'll reply later."

"The famous G ?"

"How did you..."

"He's been writing tons of comments under articles and posts about your attack. He even created hashtags #ProtectMay and #JusticeForMay on social media," he explains, showing me his phone.

I take it from him and focus on the screen. My eyes widen as I scroll through the comments. Support turns to anger, sometimes becoming aggressive towards those who downplay my incident. My jaw tightens, but I remain impassive to avoid worrying Ezio as I hand back his phone.

"He's really obsessed."

"A bit devoted and passionate, but he doesn't seem harmful. It's better than those who spew hate at me."

"If you say so," Ezio sighs, focusing back on the computer.

We start our research, navigating from site to site, delving deeper into the few leads we find. It's challenging to gather information on this family. Either they're very discreet, or they're experts at covering their tracks. So far, we only have the basics. The father, Mario, is a big mafia baron. With his late wife, Luisa, they had four sons: Luca, Enrico, Fabio, and Ettore. Three of them follow in their father's footsteps and are very promising with their numerous offenses. But one of them, Ettore, remains the most mysterious as we find no trace of him since he came of age. There's nothing compromising about them, nothing to use as leverage, no apparent weakness. A united family, skilled in their field. The task proves more difficult than expected. The darknet offers no more clues either. Ezio recognizes some coded messages in the announcements, but nothing that could help us in our quest. As hours pass, finding information becomes increasingly difficult.

"It's been a while since we've heard anything about Mario; maybe he has health issues ?" I suggest.

"Maybe. I'll ask the private investigator to explore this possibility and check the hospitals."

"Enrico is also off the radar."

"Don't be fooled; he knows how to be very discreet and who to pay to disappear."

"So basically, all we have is a family tree and a hypothesis about Mario's health. Urgh, we're not getting far."

I sigh and slump back into my chair.

"Don't lose hope; these things take time. If the internet knew all our actions, the mafia would lose its meaning. One of our guiding principles is to leave no traces and act discreetly."

I pout and rest my cheek on my fist.

"Let's stop here for today. I need to get ready for the gala. We'll make progress, don't worry. The private investigator will help us find a weakness."

"I really hope so."

"Try to relax tonight. We've done what we could on our end; now we need to be patient."

He stands up and offers me his hand. I look at it before taking it. He pulls me into a hug.

Still holding onto some resentment, I can't resist accepting his outstretched hand, knowing that in a few hours, it will be him who's angry with me. So, I swallow my pride and savor this moment of tenderness, akin to the calm before the storm.

"I assure you, if I had the choice, it's with you that I'd go."

I sigh, unconvinced by his words, and pull away from his embrace.

"Have a good evening; I'll see you tomorrow," I reply in a distant and cold tone.

I leave the room, still angry but with a hint of anxiety. Afterward, Ezio prepares himself and leaves the apartment without saying goodbye.

The action phase begins, and I decide to prepare. I put on a white pantsuit with a gold trim on the collar of the jacket and along the side of the pants.

It's perfect for covering my wounds.

Made of silk, it fits my curves perfectly. It's simple yet sexy. A plunging neckline hints at the curve of my breasts. I finally slip into high gold heels to complete my outfit.

All dressed up, I anchor my gaze into my reflection and mentally prepare for what awaits me. Far from being a stress to which I'm accustomed, the anxiety preceding a performance is always a challenge for me. This time, it is even more exacerbated by Ezio's presence. Standing tall on my heels, I repeat some mantras to calm my anxiety and reassure myself.

Finally ready, I call Salvatore to take me to the Palazzio.

"Good evening, Miss May, you look stunning tonight," he greets warmly as I settle into the back seat.

"Good evening, Salva, thank you very much," I smile at him.

He starts the car and lets a few minutes of silence pass before speaking again.

"I'm glad you're feeling better. The Condore brothers won't get away with this."

"Excuse me ?"

He looks confused in the rearview mirror.

"The Condore brothers... They're the ones who attacked you, right ?"

"Yes, but how do you know that ?"

I sense his confusion growing as his eyes start to avoid mine. He pauses before stammering out a few words.

"I... I heard Ezio talking about it with his father."

I look at him skeptically. Unconvinced by his excuse, I decide to dig deeper.

"The night I was attacked, why did Ezio come to get me instead of you ?"

He clears his throat, trying to steady his voice.

"I was held up elsewhere, so I informed Don Ezio of your location, and he must have wanted to find you himself."

"Where were you ?"

"Sorry, but that's personal, Miss May."

"I thought you said you didn't have a personal life ?" I corner him.

Silent, Salvatore parks the car before informing me of our arrival. Lacking the luxury of time, I step out of the car to find myself in front of a grand building. Inspired by Greek architecture, imposing pillars mark the entrance.

I enter the building and am greeted by a woman who asks me to follow her. She leads me down a hidden corridor to the backstage area of the gala hall. I join the other artists and guests for the event.

Lurking in the shadows, we are all equally stressed. Some try to mask their anxiety with jokes, others engage in strange rituals, and others remain stoic, like me, finding distraction only in observing our surroundings.

The cheerful voice of the gala organizer, amplified by the microphone, quiets the guests' continuous buzzing, turning their hundred voices into one. In the sudden calm, she delivers her opening speech, then introduces the first guest. Amidst thunderous applause, he starts his song. This ritual repeats for four other celebrities: an introduction followed by a performance. Much to the delight of my stress, which has had time to consume every cell of my body, I am the last to perform. My heart races, my anxiety peaking in an emotional whirlwind. Between breaths to manage my stress, I hear the host announce:

"Finally, we have the honor of welcoming one of the most beautiful voices, just back on her feet. We are fortunate to have her tonight. Please give her a round of applause."

The host disappears into the shadows, leaving me in the spotlight. Without thinking, I move forward confidently as the music plays. I begin to sing and am immediately greeted by applause from the guests. I continue my performance, letting my well-being dispel the stress, anger, and frustration that had consumed me.

At least, until my gaze falls on Ezio two tables ahead of me. His look, surprised but dark, betrays a hint of worry as he fidgets slightly. Puzzled, I glance to his left. A woman with brown hair and an angelic face looks at me admiringly. My heart skips a beat when I realize that, on one hand, she's holding Ezio's hand, and on the other, she's not Pia.

I finish my song, hiding my dismay as best as I can. If there's one thing I've mastered over the years, it's the art of camouflage. No matter what we feel, we must always present a joyful facade. Out of respect for our fans, we must transport them and make them forget their own troubles by suffocating ours behind a mask.

Once finished, I try to regain my composure as I join the other singers already seated. Positioned a few tables away from Ezio, I have my back to him, giving me some respite to calm down.

"Wow, May, that song about power is incredible. I love it! It makes us all want to push our limits and seize the impossible as if the world belonged to us !"

"Thank you. I'm glad you liked it; that means it should appeal to many," I say, trying to smile.

The evening continues with the meal, punctuated by our performances. Each time I return to the stage, I try to avoid Ezio's gaze and their table. The sight of their complicity makes me nauseous and breaks my heart a little more.

Back at my table after another performance, I feel a delicate hand on my shoulder, making me jump.

"Oh, I'm sorry I startled you, that wasn't my intention."

I turn around to find her standing before me, wearing that beautiful smile that irritates me so much I want to turn it into the Joker's grin.