Six months passed.
For one hundred and eighty-two days, I woke in the suite I had given Elena. I left Sienna's things where they were. Stale whiskey covered whatever trace of her perfume might have remained in the silk pillows.
The Moretti family lost territory and respect each week. Rivals took businesses we could no longer defend. I stayed in the suite and played the 99 voice notes again.
Sienna's recorded voice was the only one I allowed in the room.
When the alcohol stopped working, I pressed lit cigarettes into my arm. Round scars gathered from my wrist to my elbow. Each burn lasted seconds. Her tumor had hurt for months while I punished her for showing it.
That night, I sat at her old desk and worked through the encryption on her personal server. I ignored the asset folders and
