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My unaccustomed stomach, after months in the Cantina, complained, but we've survived like this before, and I told it we'll do it again.
“Are you calmer?” Alina asks.
“I am.”
“Did you look at the pictures?
“I saw them, but they didn’t make sense to me.”
“It's your mother, what's there that doesn't make sense? You two are identical,” she repeats the same words she said earlier as if she were a robot, and I push the apprehension aside, refusing to give up so soon.
“Where is she? The woman you think is my mother? Are we going to take a DNA test?” Alina blows air through her teeth, whistling.
“Don't be silly! What exam could be a greater proof than your appearance?”
“Where is she?” I repeat the question that was ignored.
“She was murdered, the year you were born, by those criminals from La Santa.” Her tone is deeply disdainful, and my eyebrows rise.
“What were you to her?”
“Aunt. Your grandmother was my sister, I'm your great-aunt. Come, let's sit down, you seem to have a lot of questions,” she says, nodding towards the bed.
“I prefer to stand, thank you,” I respond, afraid of getting too close to Alina with every word that leaves her mouth.
The woman sounds like a complete maniac. She sighs, seeming to love doing this, and sits alone on the edge of the bed.
“I have good news for you.”
“Good news?” My heart races. If the woman who kidnapped me and is acting like this is some great gift thinks it's a good thing, I'm sure it's not.
“Yes, but let's start with your questions.” I nod, wanting to delay hearing her “good news” for as long as possible.
“You said that Mr. Coppeline...”
“Your grandfather.” She interrupts me.
“You said that my grandfather,” I correct myself to please her “was trying to bring me home for a long time?”
“You don't know, do you?” She asks with an arrogant tone, like someone who is right and knows it. I don't answer, because I really have no idea what she could be talking about.
“Your precious Don was making a deal to return you to your grandfather.” The words, even though I have no idea whether they are true or not, hit me hard. I blink my eyes and swallow hard; Alina notices my reaction and doesn't hide her satisfaction with it.
“Return me?”
“Sell, actually.”
“I don't understand.”
“It's very simple, actually. Mr. Coppeline has something that Vittorio Cataneo really wants; you would be the payment.” The sad part is that this doesn't sound as absurd as it should.
“And what is it? What was I being traded for?”
“A company.”
“A company,” I repeat.
“Since your mother was murdered by La Santa, your grandfather has made it his life's mission to destroy this cursed organization. Unfortunately, it is very powerful,” she says, and with each coherent word that leaves her mouth, my heart sinks as I become more confused about what to believe and what not to believe.
