Chapter 97

• The more Lorenzo talks, the more apprehensive I grow. My limbs feel numb and cold while my heart thumps so hard against my ribs—it hurts. I look at mother and she tries to comfort me with a sympathetic look. None of us is allowed to touch each other. Lorenzo’s precise instructions. We cannot leave the room unless it’s a bathroom emergency. Even there, two of his men follow right away, no matter whether you’re a woman or a man.
• “You don’t have to do this,” mother mumbles slowly, almost pleading for him to stop. “Robert and I always treated you as our own. Never less. He trained you to inherit his rank and reputation. The truth was never supposed to come out. Everything has always been yours. What have we done to make you feel otherwise, son? Why is it so hard for you to trust us?”
• “Trust you?” Lorenzo scoffs, irritation crossing his face like a gash of the blade. He gets up from the chair and walks until he is behind the couch and where mother is sitting. He leans down, elbows on the backrest, drawing his lips close to her ear. “I would have trusted you alright—if only—you hadn’t murdered my real mom,” he acts as if he is whispering only for her to hear. But we all hear every word that leaves his mouth.