I frown at the screen, scrolling through the image again. This doesn’t make sense. This doesn’tseemlike a hit list. Because if it is, then shouldn’t Luca’s name be crossed out? And also, don’t you need more than just a first name for a hit list? There has to be at least a couple of thousands of Marcos and Dominics in New York alone.
Unless these are people specific enough that first names are all he needs.
Then, I look at the only circled name: Alessandro.
What does that mean? A priority target? Or something else entirely?
My eyes keep going over the list, and my attention turns towards Nicolas, which has been crossed out as well.
Is that Nico? It has to be, right? How many Nicolases could possibly be connected to both Slava and a list of Italian names?
Wait.
Thinking about Nico starts pulling on a thread that I’ve been trying to ignore since the fundraiser gala.
He raped and murdered my little sister Gia.
That’s what Nico told me about Slava when I went to confront him. But that’s not what Ludmilla said.
When Gia died, a part of Slava’s heart died with her.
One of them is telling me a lie, and I’m hell bent on finding out which one. I close out the photo, open up a new tab on my browser, and start a new search for Gia D’Ambrosio.
The results are sparse. Disturbingly sparse, actually. For a woman who was apparently the daughter of a major crime family, there’s almost nothing. No social media archives, no news articles, no photos.
It’s like someone went through the internet with a digital eraser and scrubbed her from existence.
But obituaries are harder to erase entirely, especially ones from local papers.
I find it buried in an archived copy of a Staten Island newsletter from six years ago. It’s the barest of barebones, but it says enough.
Gia Maria D’Ambrosio, 28, passed away on March 3rd. She is survived by her father, Leonardo D’Ambrosio, her mother Martina, her older brother Vincent, and her younger brother Nicolas. A private service will be held for immediate family.
Wait, what? I read it again.
Then again.
Her younger brother Nicolas.
Younger brother.
Little sister,Nico said.My little sister.
But according to this obituary, Gia was hisoldersister. The phone suddenly feels heavy in my hands and my throat goes dry.
It could be a mistake. Obituaries get details wrong all the time. But I’m having a hard time believing that.
Which means Nico lied.
It’s a small enough of a lie, the kind of thing you change to make a story hit harder. After all,little sistersounds more sympathetic thanolder sister.
But why lie about that to me? What does it gain him?
And if he lied about that, what else is he lying about?
The two things I know that he did not do, are the two crimes you accuse him of.
I stare at the list of names again. Vincent is at the top, crossed out. Is that Vincent D’Ambrosio? Gia’s older brother?
