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He's one of them, I think sickly.
The audio is faint but discernible, and every word is absolutely damning.
Whoever this man is, he's bragging about a chopper engine he's successfully tampered with. He's good as admitted to being involved in a plot to have my eldest brother killed, and when the camera zooms in on the receipt the man has to sign before receiving his payout—-
LA
It's the initials the man has scribbled down, and I realize right away it's no coincidence that the man's profile bears a striking similarity to my husband's build.
But what I don't get is why.
"He was like a brother to all of us," I whisper. "Why would Viktor want Giancarlo killed? And why choose to frame Lorenzo for it?"
"Because he wasn't lying when he said he loved you," my husband says flatly.
I'm about to protest and say he's gotten it all wrong...until I see in everyone's eyes that it's the other way around.
"I've just received word from immigration," Ezio informs us curtly. He's taken over Giancarlo's responsibilities when it comes to the security of our famiglia. He's exceptionally good at it, too, but none of us, Ezio included, feels right about him doing something that used to be our eldest brother's role.
(Come back, Giancarlo, please!)
"Viktor's already on a flight en route to the Carribean. He knows we're on to him."
The islands are Bianciardi territory. There's no way we'll be able to bring him to justice from there.
"So what now?" Sarica asks.
I can't help but feel uneasy at how quiet her tone is. She's almost always easy to read, but nothing ever good happens on the few times she isn't.
"We do as we always do." My grandmother's voice is tightly controlled, but it's her eyes that expose her pain. "We wait. We prepare. We pray. Giancarlo is not dead...and we will not stop until we find him."
AND SO LIFE GOES ON.
Because it's just like Nonna says, and each of us have our roles to play while waiting.
Preparing.
Praying.
(I miss you, Giancarlo.)
Summer comes to an end, and the leaves around me have started to change color.
It's my first autumn with the love of my life.
But it's also my first autumn without Giancarlo.
It's a bittersweet thought, but despite the rare flashes of fear and anguish, hope remains eternal.
Seasons come and go.
What was once lush and green would later wither and die before blossoming back into life in spring. There's always a time for everything, and there's not one second in our lives that's unplanned.
Every moment is precious.
Because once gone, it's not something you can ever have back.
And so for now...
