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My heart begins to pound as I scroll through the messages one after the other. They date back months. My mother has a whole conversation with this stranger about me, Roman, and the entire arranged marriage, but none of the messages are pleasant. They warn my mother that the wedding is a catastrophic mistake, that Roman is a cruel, malicious man who will stop at nothing to destroy our family. They claim he’s got a history of dating and killing the women he falls in love with due to his Yakuza connections, while also claiming that he never left the Yakuza. He’s an undercover rat intent on destroying both families, and if my mother doesn’t stop the wedding, she’ll end up with a dead daughter, and she’ll be next.

Several texts list horrific details of what Roman will do to me and even my body after I die. I can’t stomach reading it all. I close out of the messages and fight back a gag of bile that threatens to rise.

What thefuck.

My mother’s been having secret conversations with someone who claims to be exposing the horrible truth about Roman Gatti. So why didn’t she say anything?

Downstairs, the doctor leaves after explaining there’s nothing physically wrong with my mother, but he would like to up her anxiety medication and get her in to see a psychologist. I appease him with agreements and send him on his way, then return to her in the lounge, where she sits in the exact same place.

The tea in her hands has long gone cold.

“Mom?” It’s a challenge keeping my voice steady as I crouch in front of her and hold out the phone. “Mom, I need you to tell me what this is. Who were you texting? Why were you having secret conversations?”

The burning question ofwhat happened to Dadsits on the back of my tongue unable to escape.

She lowers her gaze to the phone, and suddenly the fog is gone in her eyes. She sets her cup aside with trembling hands, then clasps my hand and the phone between both of hers. “Oh honey, don’t you see?”

“No Mom,” I say tightly, fighting an overwhelming flood of frustration. “I don’t understandanything.”

“I did it to keep you safe, don’t you see?”

“What did you do? Who were you talking to?”

“Alto.”

“What?” My heart plummets to my gut. “This was Alto?”

“He’s such a nice man. He was warning me, don’t you see? He warned me what a dangerous and terrible person Roman is. He warned me.”

“Mom—”

“I tried to tell your father, I did. I tried to tell him and warn him. Over and over I told him how dangerous that nasty boy Roman was, but he didn’t listen. I told him to stop the wedding, and he didn’t listen to that either. He didn’t care. Men never listen!”

“Mom.” The word croaks out of me. “You—nothing in these messages is true. Do you realize that? You met Roman. You liked him, remember? At dinner.”

“He’s a snake,” she mutters bitterly, staring at me and yet somehow looking past me. “A charming, charming snake. But I saw it all. That boy Alto though. He was a good boy. Trying to warn me. Trying to help you.”

“No mom, you’ve got it all wrong. Alto tried to kill me, do you remember?”

She shakes her head quickly and pushes my hands away. “No, that’s not right. Roman is the dangerous one. He’sYakuza, Jasmine. Remember what they did to me?”

Somewhere along the lines, the past has grown tangled in her mind. Her truth is a jigsaw collection of reality.

“Mom, listen to me. These messages are lies. Alto is a monster. You knew this. He tried to kill me. Why would you listen to him?”

“He was trying to help.” She lifts one hand to her lips and in a blink, she’s crying. “He was a good boy. I wanted to save you, dear. I wanted to save my daughter from a terrible, terrible life.”

“Mom…” I don’t want to ask and yet I have to. Her jumbled words frame a picture I’m not ready to look at. But I have to. “Mom, what happened to Dad?”

“Your father…” She scoffs sharply and looks away out the window. “He never listens. Heneverdoes. So many times I try to tell him and he’s just blinded. I told him about Roman. About how it’s all him, but he never listened. Alto listened. He listened to everything I said and he understood. He told me the truth. But your father?” She tsks softly. “I had to make him listen.”

This can’t be real.

There’s no way this is real.

“Mom … what did you do?”

“He wouldn’t stop talking. Talking and talking and talking about the wedding and how good it makes us look. How it’s the best idea in a long time. How we’ll become unstoppable. How Santino will get what’s coming to him. I told him it’s not important, it’s not worth what will happen to you. We can’t give you to that monster, I said. He called me…he called me crazy. He knows I hate that word. He just wouldn’t stop talking, so I-I…”