Chapter 56

Isabella

A small part of me had thought that the morning would bring a tiny ray of happiness or hope at least with it, but it didn’t, and I had no idea how I felt about that.

The light that trickled through the curtains wasn’t golden. It was gray, like the sky had forgotten how to be warm. It seeped through the fabric like guilt, like the sky itself was in mourning. The house was too still, too hushed, and it wasn’t the kind of silence that came from peace, but had everything to do with the aftermath of the gunshot.

The silence was worse in my room, and I blinked up at the ceiling, unsure if I’d ever really fallen asleep.

I hadn’t truly slept. Why? It was simple: the memory of Federico’s body still hadn’t left me.

It returned every time I blinked, every time I shut my eyes. I’d see him haunt me. It wasn’t just him either. Leo, Papa, and even Antonio—and I couldn’t help but feel like Federico was just the beginning of an end. Probably, my end.