"So she really is my sister."
"Looks like it."
Valentina turned to Livia. "Then you're staying for dinner. And tomorrow. And however long you want. Because family doesn't get turned away."
The weeks that followed brought unexpected joy.
Sofia had arrived a few days after Livia's documents cleared—the FBI finally allowing extended family contact now that Marco was convicted and the immediate threat had passed. I watched her watching Livia and Valentina bond over shared experiences—comparing childhoods shaped by Marco's presence or absence, discovering they had the same nervous habit of twisting their hair when anxious, laughing over their mutual inability to cook anything without burning it.
March arrived with the first hints of thaw—icicles dripping from the eaves, patches of brown earth emerging through the snow. Valentina's belly had grown round enough that she'd stopped being able to see her feet, a fact she complained about daily while I pretended not to find it endearing.
"We should not be allowed near a stove unsupervised," Valentina declared after their third attempt at making pasta ended with the smoke alarm screaming.
"Agreed," Livia said, waving a dish towel at the detector. "This is a safety hazard."
"This is why Alessio does all the cooking," Valentina said, shooting me a look.
"Happy to," I called from where I was salvaging their disaster. "If it keeps the house from burning down."
They collapsed into giggles like teenagers, and Sofia—watching from the doorway—had tears in her eyes.
"My daughter has a sister," she said quietly to me later. "After everything she lost, she has family again."
But I couldn't fully let my guard down.
Something still felt off. Nothing concrete. Just instinct honed over twenty years in a world where trust got you killed.
Late one night, unable to sleep, I pulled out my laptop and went through Domenico's reports again. Read every detail, every verification, every cleared background check.
All clean. All legitimate.
So why did my gut keep screaming a warning?
I reviewed the timeline: Livia appeared a week after Marco's sentencing. Said she'd been following the trial, decided it was finally safe.
But Marco had been in custody for months before the trial. She could have come forward anytime after his arrest.
Why wait until after conviction? What changed?
Then I saw it—buried in her phone records—a detail Domenico's team had noted but not flagged as significant.
Three calls to a blocked number. All within the week before she appeared. Each call lasts less than thirty seconds.
Could be nothing. Spam calls. Wrong numbers.
Or they could be coordinating. Instructions. Check-ins.
I forwarded the details to Domenico: Dig deeper into these blocked calls. Who owns the number? Why is it hidden?
His response came back within minutes: On it. Might take time to crack—whoever owns it knows how to hide. Will update soon as I have something.
I closed the laptop, stared at the dark screen.
Three calls. Brief. Hidden. Right before she appeared at our door.
Coincidence?
Or conspiracy?
