As his name loops endlessly in my mind, desperately searching for a connection to one of my memories, I focus a bit more on their conversation. Despite my proximity, I can't quite make out their words. Straining my ears, I tense up when I hear a name my heart knows all too well.

"First Ezio, now Raphael. In two years, those Madini bastards have finally found their rightful place. Six feet under !" Feniosso whispers mischievously.

"A grave is too good for them; those filthy rats deserved the gutter," retorts the other man.

"Amen, brother. But still, it's a feat to see them buried without dirtying our hands."

"Hmm, that's easy for you to say."

Hanging on his every word, I flinch when the door beside me slams shut. Reflexively, I turn toward the noise and see a woman grimacing at her clumsiness, silently mouthing apologies. Embarrassed, she slips into the pew beside me, making herself as small as possible.

Frustrated at not hearing the rest of the mafiosi's conversation, now fallen into silence, I sink deeper into the bench. Crossing my arms, I can't help but feel the tension radiating from the two men in front of me.

So focused, I hadn't noticed the delicate perfume of my clumsy neighbor. Although pleasant, it immediately tightens my heart, conjuring up the memory of Nonna. For a moment, it feels as if she's sitting right next to me.

The scent of her perfume colors my thoughts with a memory that has long haunted me.

"It's unthinkable ! I can't understand how things could come to this ! I exclaimed, both saddened and outraged.

"Oh, my dear, their world is different. Those people think differently than we do. Their minds are poisoned by their thirst for power and dominance," Nonna replied, focused on her knitting.

Shocked by the news of the tragedy on the screen, I couldn't organize my thoughts. Nor could I comprehend my grandmother's calm indifference to the scandal.

"Nonna, how can you remain so impassive in the face of this ?"

"My dear, when it comes to the mafia, it's best not to react. There will be no justice anyway. Those people are above the law; they control it. So spare yourself and let them kill each other off—it might give us a bit of peace."

"But Nonna, it's about a brother and a sister ! That's a sacred bond ! How can anyone go to such extremes ? Mafia or not, we can't remain indifferent to this !"

" Do you think your life would mean anything to them ? If that Feniosso could coldly murder his sister to inherit all the power his father left behind, what do you think he'd do to you ? You, a mere stranger. He doesn't deserve your big heart, my dear. Move on. Maybe one day, we'll be grateful for what happened."

"They're still human beings! His sister had a legitimate right to that power ! She was the eldest ! They could have shared it—something, anything—but resorting to murder is completely over the line !"

"May, I've told you—they're different from us. You have no idea how those people think; the devil is in them. Their hearts are consumed by the flames of hell. They're archaic in their ways. Do you really believe that Alicia had any chance of inheriting power? The media said it themselves—she had cut ties with her family. And why do you think that was, if not because of her gender? Of course, no woman will ever be allowed to head their schemes. They're too backward, too afraid of us to let us have power. Those bastards. That poor girl was doomed from birth simply because she wasn't lucky enough to be born with a pair of balls."

"Nonna !" I exclaimed, shocked to hear her curse for the first time.

Her smile that followed instantly made me smile in return.

"So, you see, it does outrage you after all," I concluded.

"It's their backwardness that saddens me, but promise me something. Never get involved with those people—whether they're in need or not, don't extend a hand to them ! It would be the beginning of the end, and you'd unknowingly be making a pact with the devil. And believe me, no one comes out unscathed from such a deal."

"You seem to know quite a bit for someone who doesn't know those people," I replied, a hint of suspicion in my voice.

She fell silent, giving me a dark look, then, unexpectedly, revealed a bit more.

"Luisa was a close friend of your mother. They were like sisters. But as adults, despite the strength of their bond, they drifted apart until they lost contact. Your mother visited Luisa only once during those years, and it was at her grave. We never knew the true cause of her death, but I'm convinced she fell at the hands of her husband."

"Who was he ?"

"You mean who is he ? He's still alive. Mario Condore. A vile man who could very well be the devil incarnate! He deserves to burn."

"So, he's the mafia boss ?"

" Oh no, my dear, the Madini family is the most powerful. The more you avoid them, the longer you'll live. Promise me you'll never go near them—no matter what happens !"

"I promise you, Nonna." 

My heart tightens as the memory fades. My fists clench with anger at myself for not keeping my promise, and guilt over her death boils in my blood. Once again, I can only acknowledge how full of wisdom and truth her words were.

Behind Abiani and Feniosso, I realize that what I once considered a tragedy now presents an opportunity for us. Although they are still surrounded by family and guards, there are fewer people left to seek revenge upon. Judging by their conversation, these two families remain a threat that I will have to deal with. Ignoring their ambition to rise to the top of the pyramid is not an option. If I don't intervene, they may claim that spot sooner than expected.

The priest's clear and distinguished voice echoes through the building, a cry of reason pulling me from my thoughts. I gather myself to listen to the speech filled with praises Raphael does not deserve.

At the end of the ceremony, we are all invited to make the sign of the cross over the coffin. Standing at the back of the room, waiting for my turn, my eyes wander over the line in front of me. Behind his mother, a little boy I recognize as Feniosso's son turns to stare at me with his large, dark eyes. Unsure of how to react, I return his gaze impassively. A brief exchange passes between us, during which I notice that his innocence has been reduced to embers by the flames of his father's ambitions.

Corrupted so young by his father's foul aspirations—it's sad.

Brave but not bold, he finally lowers his gaze before moving along with the line. When my turn comes, I stand before the coffin and bless the mannequin in its eternal rest. As I finish making the sign of the cross, I raise my eyes and lock them with Isabella's. She stares at me, her gaze sharp as daggers. Proud of myself, I offer her a slight smirk, then, still looking at her, I head toward the exit.

I descend the steps toward my motorcycle and wait patiently for the coffin to emerge. Once it's loaded into the hearse, I mount my steed and ride toward the cemetery where Ezio and Giuseppe are buried.

Soon, I arrive at my destination. A few people are already present, and I join them. Within minutes, more people swarm like ants around a crumb of bread. Positioned in a semicircle around the mannequin's final resting place, I stand to the far left of the priest, with a splendid view of Isabella, who hasn't taken her eyes off me. I don't listen to a word of the priest's speech, unwilling to hear a single kind word about Raphael's memory.

Without waiting for the end, I leave, maintaining my gaze on Isabella. I smile, knowing full well she curses me and that my behavior raises ethical questions.

I head toward Ezio's grave, which, surprisingly, is not beside his father's for their eternal rest.

That's for the best.

After a few steps, I reach the cold stone under which Ezio lies. Saddened, I kneel and clear away a few overgrown weeds. I brush my fingers against the stone, which tightens my heart and stirs my tears.

I begin to silently pay my respects, closing my eyes in front of his grave, not wanting any eavesdroppers to hear what I say, until I feel a pair of hands slam me to the ground. Opening my eyes, I find Isabella transformed into a sort of monstrous creature, her face flushed red, her lips wet with saliva she spits through clenched teeth.

"You attacked me sooner than I expected," I say with a smile.

"Stop smiling—this isn't a game, you crazy bitch!" she snarls, out of control, as I block her fist, poised to strike my face.

With force, I throw her to the side and straddle her. Controlling my strength, I deliver a punch that stuns her slightly.

"Don't make me kill you in a cemetery. I'm determined to ruin your life, but I want to take my time. Don't try to play in a league where you don't belong. I won't hurt you more right now, but I promise, when your time comes, you'll know it," I say, pinning her to the ground.

I lift her by the collar and slam her violently back down, then leave her on the ground as I walk away.

I hurry to meet Andrea and Andy, who have left the three men to handle the final burial of the coffin, so we can head off to retrieve Raphael's real body.

After forty kilometers or so, I'm relieved to see the truck with the driver, Andy, and Andrea nearby. I hop off my motorcycle, and my first instinct is to run into Andy's arms, needing comfort and the relief of seeing a familiar face I love. Caught by surprise, it doesn't take long for her to return my embrace.

I pull away and glance at Andrea, who nods. I quickly rush to check that Raphael's body is indeed in the box, then smile with tears in my eyes, like the grand psychopath I am, upon finding him beneath the lid.

Now, it's just you and me.