That day, I knelt by the hospital bed and cried helplessly for a long, long time...

My tears ran dry, my throat went hoarse, but I couldn't stop.

The nurse who had been taking care of my mother, her eyes red, told me my mother's last words.

"Your mother was calling your name until the very end."

"She said, no matter the reason you couldn't make it, she doesn't blame you."

"She just hopes you can live a good life with your husband."

"She also said Dante is a good kid, she didn't judge him wrong back then."

"She told you not to blame him, and to cherish what you have."

Hearing these words, my heart felt like it was being ripped apart alive.

My mother didn't know the truth until she died.

She died thinking Dante was a good man.

She died thinking about my happiness.

And me?

I didn't even see her one last time.

I held my mother’s cold hand, sitting dazedly on the floor, silent for a long time.

I don't remember the subsequent processes clearly.

Returning to our hometown in Springfield, cremation, the funeral.

Everything happened as if in a dream.

I mechanically completed every step, my heart terrifyingly empty.

Finally, I sat in the simple funeral home.

It was empty all around. Not a single person came to pay respects.

Because the Falcone Family had put out the word—

Anyone who dared to attend Sophia Rossi's mother's funeral was an enemy of the Falcone Family.

An enemy of the entire Boston underworld.

Those neighbors who were once close to my mother didn't dare to show their faces.

I kept vigil alone.

I made one last phone call to Dante.

At the very least, he should come to see the benefactor who once funded him.

At the very least, he should send my mother off on her final journey.

When the call connected, I realized my voice was already hoarse beyond recognition.

Using all my strength, I squeezed out a few words:

"Mom... passed away."

But the voice that came through the phone was Olivia’s, sweet and gentle:

"Oh, that's truly unfortunate."

"But Dante doesn't have time to go find you right now."

"He is accompanying me at a very important summit hosted jointly by the American Medical Association and the Family Foundation."

"We just did a surgery demonstration and are getting ready to go to a champagne party to celebrate."

"Who is calling?" Dante's voice echoed in the background.

His tone was relaxed, even carrying a laugh.

Obviously, he was in a good mood.

I hung up the phone numbly.

I knelt in front of the funeral home for three full days and nights, without sleep.

My mind replayed bits and pieces of my mother’s life.

How she saved and scrimped to send me to Harvard.

How she took care of me all night when I was sick.

How she stood up for me when I was bullied.

And I, I didn't even see her one last time.

Afterward, I calmly returned to Boston.

Bought a plane ticket, organized my assets, handled everything.

And, agreed to divorce Dante.