Chapter 332: The truth 2
When they arrived home, the atmosphere between Abby and Remo was heavy with unspoken thoughts. The tension from their earlier encounter with Mrs. Moretti clung to them like a dense fog, wrapping around their hearts and minds. Abby stole glances at Remo as they stepped inside, closing the door behind them. He hadn’t spoken since they left the ice cream parlor. The silence wasn’t comforting—it was suffocating.
Remo tossed his keys onto the table with a heavy clatter and headed toward the living room, the weight of everything they had just learned bearing down on his broad shoulders. Abby followed him quietly, her mind racing, but unsure of how to bring up the questions that gnawed at her. What had Mrs. Moretti meant? How much of what she had said was true?
She remembered Remo mentioning once, in passing, that the details surrounding Isabella’s death were blurry. At the time, she thought it was just grief—something too painful to relive. But now... after what Mrs. Moretti had said, a different possibility was clawing at the edges of Abby’s thoughts. Could Remo have forgotten what really happened?
The silence stretched on between them, becoming unbearable. Remo sat down on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. His dark eyes stared at the floor, lost in thought. Abby lingered by the door, feeling unsure of how to comfort him. She could see it—how deeply this was bothering him. He was a man used to being in control, a man who kept his world tightly ordered. But now, something fragile was unraveling, and she didn’t know how to help him pick up the pieces.
"Remo..." Abby began, her voice soft, unsure. She didn’t know how to ask the questions swirling inside her, didn’t know how to make sense of the confusion.
He didn’t respond, and the silence stretched again, thick and oppressive. Then, without a word, Remo pulled his phone from his pocket. Abby watched, her heart thudding in her chest, as he scrolled through his contacts. After a moment, he pressed the call button and put the phone on speaker.
The line rang twice before a familiar voice picked up on the other end.
"Remo...thought you’d forgotten about your brother. What’s up?" Matteo’s voice came through, light and teasing, but the undercurrent of brotherly concern was evident.
Remo ignored the pleasantries. His voice was cold, clipped, and straight to the point. "Tell me, Matteo... How did Isabella die? What happened? Why can’t I remember?"