I stared down at my blood-covered hands and then at the lifeless body of my wife. Slowly, I closed the door in case Daniele came by. He didn’t need to see more of this. The red roses the maid had bought for Gaia as a gift for our eighth anniversary lay crumpled beside the limp body. Red roses to match the blood that stained the sheets and her white dress.
Picking up my phone, I called Father. “Cassio, don’t you have a dinner reservation with Gaia?”
“Gaia is dead.”
Silence. “Can you repeat that?”
“Gaia is dead.”
“Cassio—”
“Someone needs to clean this up before the kids see it. Send a clean-up crew and inform Luca.”
