Lies Secrets A Baby

Some say that Angels mourn for us when we are unable to weep our own tears. 

When the pain becomes so overwhelming that we are afraid that if we let the tears fall, they will drown us in our aura of misery.

The air is thick with melancholy as if a heavy cloud of grief continuously hangs over the entire cemetery.

Death lingers in the air accompanied by the faint smell of rain, cheap perfume, and fresh roses.

I shut my black umbrella, letting it slip between my fingers, and I gaze up at the ominous sky as the tears of the Angels cascade down upon us.

It's a cold day.

The sort of day that drills deep into your bones, marking you forever as it licks and nips all over your frigid flesh. 

Today, we lay to rest my dear sister, Rose, whose life was tragically cut short. 

The coroner's report states she had alcohol and drugs in her system and that’s what caused the car accident, killing her three hours later in the hospital.

But I know better.

I know that my sister was murdered and that someone at the Valentino residence had something to do with it. 

Rose was no saint, but she never dared to play God with other people’s lives on the road; meaning that she would never get behind the wheel under the influence of alcohol or drugs.

Don Alessandro Valentino is in the Mafia. He is the most feared man in our country, and I have a feeling many more.

Making his presence known as his henchmen guard every inch of the cemetery not only potentially puts us all in danger, but it also has everyone on edge.

Had it not been for the little girl standing steadfastly by his side, I would have boldly approached him and told him to leave—to fuck off.

Because he isn't welcome here. 

The memories of him being, Roses' former flame linger in my thoughts like a haunting melody, ceasing my heart every time I steal a glance in his direction.

The little girl, adorned in a pristine dress with a pearl necklace delicately draped around her neck, is none other than my precious niece, Savannah. 

She doesn't know who I am, and it kills me that I never got the chance to build a strong bond with her when Rose was alive.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I surreptitiously cast my gaze back to the front, away from him, and the mysterious raven-haired beauty hanging off his arm like a cheap knockoff purse.

The priest's solemn prayer comes to a close. The mourners step forward, each one placing a single, pristine white rose atop the casket of our beloved Rose.

“I am deeply sorry for the loss of your sister and daughter, Mr….” 

The sound of a nasally feminine voice breaks my trance.

“Bishop,” I sigh irritably.

Since Roses’ passing, my father has not been able to string three words together, nor has he shed a tear. 

He is nothing but an empty vessel and it scares me greatly

“Rose spoke highly of you, Ivy. She also mentioned how beautiful you were, and I must say that her description of your elegance has done no justice.” 

Sighing, I shift my gaze from Roses’ coffin and I meet her chocolate brown gaze.

 “I’m sorry. Who did you say you were again?” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice because the last time Rose and I spoke, moments before she died, she warned me not to trust anyone affiliated with Don Valentino at the villa.

“My name is Sofia DeLuca, and I have taken it upon myself to be there for Savannah now that she is an orphan,” Sofia responds in a voice that makes my skin crawl with venom.