A few days have passed, and now it is the morning of Raphael's funeral. Andrea has brilliantly handled the transport arrangements and identified our meeting point after the burial—details that were still missing. There's no turning back now; we've worked tirelessly to bring our plan to fruition. It is time to step into the spotlight and play our parts.

With a knot in my stomach and anxiety on my lips, I finish getting ready in front of the mirror. Like a black widow preparing to strike her next prey, I stare at my reflection, more determined than ever, forbidding myself from missing my mark. Closing my eyes, I slow my racing heart, feeling the blood pounding through my veins. I inhale deeply, then exhale, and open my eyes. A mischievous smile crosses my face as I nod to myself for encouragement. Resolute, I leave the room and ride off on my motorcycle to fulfill my mission.

After about thirty minutes, I arrive at the crime scene. The sight of the manor, rich in memories, flashes images of the past through my mind. I quickly push them away, focusing on my objective.

I park and remove my helmet, following a few people who are about to enter. Once inside, a shiver runs through me; a heavy, gloomy atmosphere hangs over the place. Despite the large windows, the light is dim. Chandeliers and wall sconces are lit to bring some brightness, but despite their efforts, death dominates.

I stand quietly behind the crowd, already spotting the golden hair of our dear grieving hostess. Despite the years that have passed, I instantly recognize her voice, as if my mind had recorded it forever.

The line before me shortens, and soon I find myself face to face with Isabella, looking distraught. With a broad smile, I greet her.

"Isabella, what a pleasure to see you again under such circumstances! It's incredible how time has no effect on you—thank you, plastic surgery !" I mock, a satisfied smile on my lips.

"How dare you show up here ?!" she hisses, her words barely escaping through clenched teeth.

I step closer and whisper in her ear. "Surely, you didn't think I'd miss this wonderful event ? I've been waiting for it for so long, haven't you ?" I ask, stepping back, locking my eyes with hers, smiling all the while.

Too angry to respond, she chooses not to draw attention.

"I'll just say a final goodbye to my dear father-in-law. If you'll excuse me ? We'll catch up later."

I head toward the open doors, but I feel an arm restrain me. Before turning around, I spot Andy and the three men in their positions, with Andrea, disguised, standing beside them.

After the execution of the fourth man, we had to revise our plan. We didn't change the transporter as initially planned but stuck with the regular caterer's transporter. However, we had to corrupt the driver to ensure he could be diverted.

Like with the four men before him, we delved into his past and present to uncover the vice lurking within. This scumbag is addicted to pornography—worse, he spies on his neighbor and exhibits more than deviant, psychopathic behavior. Inflatable dolls and mannequins in his likeness, a collection of journals where he meticulously records his every move, stolen underwear, and photos—the kind of twisted, disgusting guy you'd wish would fall off a cliff. Conveniently, that's exactly what awaits him at the end of the day.

Even if we manage to corrupt this man for the mission, given the scum he is, trusting him with discretion would be impossible. So, we will use him briefly and then rid the world of this vile creature.

Seeing Andrea by the coffin reassures me that he successfully corrupted our little animal in heat.

I turn back to face Isabella, now redder than ever.

"You should stop overdoing the blush; soon, we won't be able to tell the difference between your lipstick and your skin tone," I smile.

"You wretched bitch, you're not going anywhere near my dead husband !"

Before I can respond, she raises her voice to order the coffin's final closure.

"Oh, already ? But don't you want to bid your dear husband a last farewell ?"

She shoots me a dark look and drags me along, forcing me to follow her toward the exit.

I glance back to check the situation and breathe a sigh of relief when I see the doors are closed. I cross my fingers, hoping everything goes according to plan.

As we move forward, people part, their eyes wide with curiosity. I smile politely at them, nearly being dragged along. Once outside, I know I must do everything I can to stall for time because as long as Isabella is occupied with me, she can't focus on the coffin or what's happening.

"How dare you stop me from seeing him ?" I feign innocence.

"You hated him, just as we all hate you! You have no place here; your place is in your miserable swamps !"

"My beach is far from a swamp. We know you're blonde, but it's fascinating how much you prove it every time you open your mouth."

To my surprise, she turns even redder, her eyes nearly bulging from their sockets.

"You're nothing but a worthless piece of trash who doesn't know respect and only thinks of herself. You're good for nothing, and your little act doesn't work on me ! I don't know why you're here, but it's certainly not to say goodbye to Raphael !"

"Indeed, I wanted to see his cold, rigid corpse with my own eyes. I must confess, the news of his death really took me by surprise—and saddened me, but not for the reason you might think. I was planning to kill him with my own hands, and not having been able to satisfy that urge... well... I must say, it frustrated me. Isn't it strange ? That a man in such good shape could vanish overnight ?"

I can feel her composure cracking with every word, and she's about to lunge at me to silence me.

"You don't know what you're talking about. Time has passed since you last saw him. You're pathetic. Threatening my poor deceased husband in this place, no less. You're truly reckless; I could crush you in a matter of seconds. The mere fact that you dare look at me, breathe my air, or smile at me means you're dead. You dare insinuate that I killed Raphael when I loved him ? Your behavior is sickening and deplorable. Of all my regrets, the greatest is that you survived instead of Ezio. The world would have been rid of a great psychopath !"

I laugh in her face. Nervousness overtakes me, and I laugh even harder, unable to stop. After a few seconds, I finally manage to calm down.

"Oh, poor Isabella. Maybe I am pathetic in your eyes, and good for you, but you have no idea what's in store for you. Your time hasn't come yet, but it will, rest assured."

Adjusting her collar, I continue, "So keep on pampering yourself and fighting against time because you don't have much of it left."

"Is that a threat ?"

"No, a promise, my dear," I reply with a wink.

Before she can respond, Andy approaches us and addresses Isabella with a forced voice. Also in disguise, Isabella doesn't recognize her.

"Madam, we are ready to take the body for the ceremony."

Regaining her composure and adjusting her outfit, she replies, "Perfect, let's go. We'll follow you."

Andy winks at me, then heads back inside. Moments later, an army of undertakers passes by, carrying the coffin—or rather, the mannequin.

I'm about to descend the steps when Isabella stops me once more.

"We're not done, you and I."

"Oh, I hope not," I say with a big smile.

"May, don't you dare follow the hearse. If I see you at the ceremony or the burial, you're a dead woman," she threatens.

I flash her my most dazzling smile, then go to retrieve my motorcycle. Before starting it, I see the caterer's truck pass by with the driver inside. He's a man in his forties, with the typical look of someone in the trade. A real trucker, repulsive. I grimace at the sight of him. The mere thought of his filthy mind splattered on the ground at the bottom of a ravine is enough to bring me peace.

Your time is almost up, little pig.

Completely ignoring Isabella's threats, I take my place at the end of the somber procession.

Upon arriving at the destination, I try to ignore the knot forming in my stomach as I see a magnificent Sicilian baroque church standing before me. I don't want to let my father's influence cloud my view of the world, and yet, I can't deny his presence. A lover of art history, I find myself gazing at the imposing façade through his eyes. Full of flamboyance and theatricality, it offers us an enchanting spectacle through its interplay of light and shadow.

Isn't that right, Daddy?

I then focus on the details because they are "the treasure of architecture's richness," his voice echoes in my mind. A profusion of curves and ornaments adorn the façade, which takes the shape of an arch. At the top, a bell tower crowns the structure, housing three bells under their own arch. At the church's base, a long, straight staircase enhances the building's majesty.

The ringing of the bells pulls me from my reverie. I have to admit, though we rarely agreed, our shared love of architecture brought us together. It was, in fact, all we had in common.

Guided by the irritation of his memory, I hurry up the steps to catch up and join the last arrivals. Entering, I realize the interior is as grand as the exterior.

The carefully worked stone walls decorate the building with unique sculptures and embellishments. Individual columns adorned with gold contrast with the colored marble inlaid in the floor.

As much as I despise Isabella and Raphael, I must admit they never do anything halfway and always choose the best for their events, no matter their nature.

I tear my gaze away from the architecture and my mind from the memory of my father, focusing on the people around me. Everyone finds their seat with the creaking sound of wood, waiting for the ceremony to begin. I do the same, sitting in the last row next to the main aisle.

I notice the coffin already positioned before the priest, surrounded by large bouquets of flowers. A grand photo of Raphael, adorned with flowers, has been placed on the side. The sight of the flowers quickly fades as my attention shifts to two families settling in front of me. I ignore them until I hear the name of one of the family heads.

Feniosso. I swear I've heard that name somewhere before.