My scream came out raw and broken. I dropped to my knees instantly, hands shaking as I tried to gather him back together. My fingers scraped the floor, but I didn’t feel the pain. I didn’t feel anything except the emptiness growing inside me.
Behind me, Vincenzo sighed like he was bored.
“Stop screaming like someone died,” he said flatly. “You’re not the victim here.”
My hands were covered in ash now. My breath came in uneven gasps. My vision blurred, but I couldn’t stop.
Then he spoke again.
“I got the hospital report this morning,” Vincenzo said calmly. “Gabriel is fine. Alive. Sitting up. Smiling. The doctor even sent proof.”
I froze.
The ashes beneath me blurred further.
Alive?
No.
That couldn’t be right.
I was there. I held him when the monitors stopped. I felt his body go still in my arms. I watched them cover him because there was nothing left to do.
“You’re lying,” Vincenzo said, stepping closer until his shadow covered me completely. “You made this up. You staged it. You drugged him just to get attention. Just to play the victim.”
I lifted my head slowly, shaking.
“He died…” my voice cracked. “He died in my arms…”
“Enough,” he snapped. “Shut up.”
Lena stepped in softly, her voice trembling in a way that felt rehearsed.
“Maybe she did it because of me,” she whispered. “Maybe she hates me so much she wanted me to suffer too…” Her eyes shifted to the ashes. “Maybe she wanted me to imagine that… being me one day. Broken. Gone. Like that.”
She let out a shaky sob and collapsed dramatically onto the couch, trembling like she was made of glass.
“Come on, sweetheart,” she said weakly, grabbing Noel’s hand. “Let’s go. Mommy can’t breathe around this… this darkness. I don’t want you seeing things like this.”
Noel frowned but didn’t resist. He just followed—trained, obedient.
Then Vincenzo wrapped his arm around Lena’s waist like she was the only thing steady in the room.
“Don’t waste your tears on her,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re the only one who matters. Let’s leave her here with her mess.”
I was still on the floor, gathering what remained of my son with shaking hands. Ash smeared across my skin, streaking the tiles like something trying to cling to life.
Then Noel suddenly broke away.
He ran straight toward me.
His shoe came down hard.
Right on the ashes.
“Witch!” he shouted. “You made my mom cry!”
He stomped again.
And again.