Chapter 3 - The Severed Connection
It started with a missed call. Then two.
When Grace finally answered my video call on a rainy Tuesday night, the camera wasn't facing her. The screen was completely black, showing only a static icon.
“Grace?” I had asked, leaning toward my laptop screen in a sterile hotel room in Zurich. “Why is your camera off, tesoro? I want to see you. I want to see how much the bump has grown.”
Her voice, when it came through the speaker, sounded thin, strained, and oddly hollow—as if she were speaking from inside a deep well.
“I'm not feeling well, Dante,” she whispered. “The doctor said I need absolute rest. The light hurts my eyes.”
“What doctor?” I demanded, sitting up straight. “Let me speak to him. If you need medical evacuation to Zurich—”
“No!” she interrupted, her voice rising in a panicked pitch before abruptly catching herself and dropping back into that strange, flat monotone. “No, Dante. Just... focus on your work. Don't worry about me. I'm okay.”
Click.
She hung up.
Over the next fourteen days, every attempt to reach her was met with identical, chillingly brief text messages:
I'm okay. Don't worry about me. Focus on your work.
Whenever I called the estate's landline to demand answers, my mother, Elena, magically answered within two rings.
“She isn't feeling well, Dante,” Elena would soothe, her voice dripping with maternal honey that always left a bitter taste in my mouth. “Pregnancy toxemia, the family doctor says. Complete bed rest in a darkened room. She doesn't want visitors, and she certainly doesn't want you stressing her out while you're trying to broker peace in Europe.”
“Put her on the phone, Mother,” I had ordered during our last call before I boarded my jet.
“She is asleep, Dante. Heavily medicated. If you rush back now, you’ll only disrupt her recovery and show weakness to your rivals.”
Then, Grace disappeared completely.
Her phone stopped pinging cell towers. Her social accounts went dead. My mother claimed the doctor had confiscated all electronic devices to eliminate electromagnetic radiation interference during her delicate final trimester.
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I didn't believe a single word of it.
I cancelled my remaining diplomatic meetings, ordered my security detail to stand down, boarded my private jet in Zurich, and flew straight through the night without stopping, landing in Sicily before dawn.
