Husband's Obsession Costs Mom's Life

By the time I had made my way around most of the nightclub, the two of them had already disappeared. However, I managed to get another piece of evidence: a confirmation for Gianni's reservation for the presidential suite had been sent to my phone. I called the hotel, requested the check-in details be sent to me, and then headed back home.

The next morning, I went to the cemetery to bid a final farewell to Milana. After ensuring her remains were appropriately placed, I returned home with the urn. Milana had always been good to me; it was my responsibility to see that she was laid to rest with respect, even if Gianni failed in his familial obligations. As I stepped through the door, still holding the urn, Gianni barged in.

He didn't utter a word before knocking the urn out of my hands, scattering the ashes across the floor. Anger surged within me as I watched the ashes spread.

"Gianni, what the hell are you doing?"

"You fool, bringing this bad luck into the house? You think I won't lay a hand on you?"

Fortunately, I had installed cameras around the house earlier, capturing everything. I silently knelt to gather Milana's ashes. Gianni, thinking I was backing down, sprawled out on the couch.

"Clean it up and get rid of it, then make me dinner," he snapped.

Ignoring him, I took Milana's ashes and laid them to rest at the family home. Gianni had been draining my finances for years. With his bragging to Ryleigh about being the boss of the company, it was clear he must have been siphoning funds.

Since Milana had raised Gianni single-handedly, we were the only heirs to her small estate. I took care of all of Milana's affairs and lingered a bit longer over the rundown little house where she had spent her final days. The place was barely more than a one-story structure with two tiny windows. The living room, kitchen, and bedroom all shared the same cramped space, and the bed's cover was black from the soot of the fireplace she used for cooking.

The cleanest item in the room was a picture frame containing a photograph of Gianni from his childhood birthday party.

I arrived home late. Gianni's immediate reaction was to hurl a barrage of insults, followed by a violent outburst.

"Where have you been, you useless woman? When I tell you to make me dinner, is it that hard to understand?"

I looked at Gianni icily. "I was taking care of things for Mom."

Hearing this, Gianni grew even more furious. "How many times have I told you, that old bat's death has nothing to do with me! Now hurry up and cook, unless you want me to lose my temper."

I quietly handed him a bankbook.

"This is everything Mom left."

His eyes gleamed with greed as soon as he saw the bankbook.

"Well, you should have mentioned something sooner; maybe then I would've visited her one last time. I'll let it slide this time, but make sure to inform me next time."

With the bankbook in hand, Gianni eagerly grabbed his coat. "Hey, Ryleigh, remember that rooftop restaurant you wanted to try? Turns out I’m available today, how about I take you there?"

Gianni was thrilled, but my thoughts were filled with the image of Milana’s old, soot-covered cooking pot in her cramped house because she didn’t want to spend money on even a simple electric stove. I silently followed Gianni out.