The morning sun spilled through the window, but it brought no warmth. Only silence and the weight of the night before.

Montana sat by the edge of the bed, holding her phone like it could still save her. She dialed the number she remembered from memory; Ben’s mother. But of course… there was no answer. There never had been. The woman had never owned a phone.

Still, Montana tried Tuscan Town, the elderly care center. Maybe someone there would know and help her reach her mother-in-law.

“This number is no longer in service.”

She blinked at the screen, her heart thudding in her chest. Had they moved? Or changed staff? Or changed the whole damn world without telling her?

But no, none of that mattered. What mattered was that that woman deserved to know her son was dead. Didn’t she?

With shaking fingers, she called Ben’s sister. There was no answer, she didn't pick up.

Montana tried his uncle. It went straight to Voicemail.

Finally, Elena, the aunt, picked up.

“Aunty Ele—” she began, her voice already breaking.

“We know my nephew is dead,” came the cold, slicing voice. “You don’t need to call again.”

Montana’s breath hitched. “I just wanted to talk. About the funeral, about—”

“A priest has already been contacted. Benedetto’s body will be sent home. His real home.”

That last word felt like a slap. Like a chain was being ripped from her chest.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“You’re not family,” Elena said, her tone hard and final. “You were his mistake, Montana. Everyone knew it. He was going to leave you anyway. He was already sending his things up here, and now that he’s gone, we’ll handle the arrangements. You can stay in the house if you want, he put it in your name after all. But don’t think that makes you a Rossi. You're not. Well, not anymore.”

Then silence before the line went dead.

Montana stared at the phone, but it didn’t ring again. She could only cry at the moment. And for the first time since the accident, the numbness in her heart cracked. Just a little.

She wasn’t only grieving a man, she was being erased from his memory, from his name, and from his family.

Where was his mother in all this? Did she know? Did she care at all?

Somehow, by some miracle, Montana found the strength to get in the car and drive. Her hands gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth. The officers had asked her to come as they said paperwork waited for her. They were paperwork for the ring, for the body, for the money Ben took but couldn't even spend.

His family had already called the station, trying to take it all. Trying to take his body and the ring and the money and do all the paperwork. They wasted no time.

“That’s everything,” Officer Bridge said kindly, placing the documents in front of her. “A sizable deposit will be made. Mr. Scarpa confirmed he won’t be contesting any of it. He’s asked us to close the case.”

Montana’s lips parted. “Close the case?”

He gave a small nod. “No further investigation should be done on it, by his demand.”

He left her alone to continue with the documents.

She looked down at her belly. Her hands hovered over the curve of her stomach. She was pregnant, only a week in. Just a whisper of life. It was like a secret growing in the dark.

She hadn’t planned to keep it when she got that message yesterday. Ben wouldn’t have let her. He never let her. His word had been law and she had loved him too much to fight it.

But now… now he was gone, and everything would have to be different.

The house would have to be sold. The debts were too high, they were over a million. There was no safety net, no helping hand, no one left. Just her, a child, and the silence of her sitting down there alone. ‘How could silence be so loud?’ she thought.

“Mrs. Rossi.”

The voice came low, smooth, and familiar in its authority.

Montana turned, her heart stuttering in her chest. Her eyes trembled when she saw who it was. Torre Scarpa.

His name hit her brain like cold rain. He stood there in all black; black suit, black tie, black sorrow etched into every line of his face.

She couldn't stop her mind from recalling that night they first met. She remembered his handshake and the piercing eye contact. She remembered the way his wife had followed him with a quiet smile and a regal kind of beauty.

It was at a gala just one month ago. She had gone with Benedetto.

She rose to her feet. “It’s just Montana now.”

He gave a slow, measured, and heavy nod. “I hope you don’t mind that I asked the police to close the case.”

The air between them thickened. It wasn’t tension and it wasn’t peace either. It was a muted and shared grief.

Their spouses had both lied to them and betrayed them and then died. Money couldn’t soften that kind of blow. Nothing ever could. So, she nodded thinking, ‘He must have closed the case because he doesn't want the matter to be drawn any further. It might hurt his heart and he might miss his wife in the process.’

“I don’t suppose Benedetto left you a letter?” Scarpa asked.

She shook her head. “No. You?”

He nodded once. “I found it too late. I came home early because we had dinner plans with my brothers. The police called just as I walked in the door.”

Montana winced. “That’s a cruel way to find out.”

Scarpa’s gaze flicked downward, to her stomach. His eyes lingered there for a bit too long.

Montana's breath caught. Why was he staring at her stomach?

“At least you still have something of him,” he murmured.

She didn’t respond.

She could’ve. She wanted to ask, ‘How do you know? Did Ben tell you? Are you stalking me now, Mr. Scarpa?’

But the words never came. Instead, she said softly, “I’m sorry you had to go through all of this.”

He wasn’t the kind of man people said sorry to, but she did because she meant it.

Scarpa reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. The warmth of it shocked her. She liked the warmth and missed it. At times like these, the warmth was a sweet slow remedy.

Officer Bridge returned with the final folder.

Montana straightened her spine. There was still more to face, and maybe… more to lose. But she was losing fewer versions of herself to survive this betrayal and pain.