Omerta The Widow's Daughter

"Miss Giordano, we've found a body. The features match your mother. We need you to come in and identify it."

My smile, reflected in the bridal shop mirror, shattered with a single phone call.

The morgue reeked of formaldehyde and something older—something that clung to the walls like a confession no one wanted to hear. When they pulled back the sheet, her body was barely recognizable. Her eyes—gone. Her organs—ripped out like she'd been nothing more than livestock to be harvested.

I collapsed, a scream tearing from my throat as the world turned black.