"Marco!" my mom yelled. "You snake. You jerk. You think because my husband is dead –"
"That's enough, Eleonora," he cut in, "this behavior is exactly why we're here."
As two more men hurried in, one of them handed him a plastic file, and he continued to look me down.
"Your mother," he said with a downward-curving mouth as he passed me, "is unwell."
"Grieving –"
"She's unstable."
I stepped into his path before he could reach her. "She's fine," I stated. "She's upset. Anyone would be upset. You can't just storm into our house and decide – what is this, huh?"
"Your mother's condition has been deteriorating for months. Public incidents. Emotional instability. Refusal to comply with medical advice," he replied without hesitation, unpinned the file, and slid a stack of pap
