“You want to leave me? The only way out of this marriage is death,” Giovanni hisses, his breath and spittle hitting my face. “Which is exactly how you’re leaving.”

Cold metal presses into the side of my head. I won’t beg him again. I won’t plead anymore. This is it. I’m done. At least I won’t feel the pain anymore. Because I won’t feel anything.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Your sins need to die,” Giovanni says. “I’ll never let you take them.”

The barrel pulls away from my skin, and my breath catches in my chest. Then the sound of gunfire rings out and my body hits the floor. Hard.

I don’t feel it. Where is it? The bullet wound. I don’t feel it.

Giovanni’s hands wrap around my hair, lifting my head from the ground so he can look me in the eyes. “The problem is… death would be too kind for you. You’re exiled. If you ever try to come back, if you try to contact the boys, it won’t be you who I’ll kill. It’ll be them. One by one, I’ll cut their throats right in front of you. I’ll make you drink their spilled blood. I’ll make you bury your own children, knowing their suffering is on your hands.”

I shake my head. “No. Giovanni, no. Please don’t do this.”

This is something I will beg for. He was right. Death would be kinder than living in a world where I can’t see my boys. My head is slammed against the ground, followed by a sharp pain against the back of my skull. Then nothing. Blackness takes over.

* * *

Present

The door creaks open. I don’t bother to open my eyes. I don’t need to. It’s only going to be one of two people. Tommy or Esther. No one else comes in here.

“Babe, you need to get out of bed,” Tommy says, opening the curtains.

“I can’t,” I groan.

“Yes, you can,” he tells me.

“They hate me.” Tears sting the corners of my eyes.

“They don’t know you. They hate the situation, not you.” Tommy sits on the side of the bed. I don’t know how I got so lucky to find him or how he found me. I just know that he loves me.

For a long time, I didn’t even know who I was. But this man was so patient, so kind. He helped me heal, and over time, my memories started to come back. The first years were hard. I wanted to find them, but I couldn’t figure out their names. All I saw were faces.