Chapter 63

• That night, I attended dinner with Carlo and his
• family, though the conversation drifted around me like fog. I answered questions with half-hearted smiles, but my mind was elsewhere. The roasted chicken and potatoes on my plate tasted like ash, as most meals had for the past month.
• Frustration coiled in my stomach, making it hard to swallow. It wasn’t just grief—it was anger, a fury aimed squarely at myself. Of all the people I could blame for my mom's death, I blamed me the most.