Page 78 of Lost Room Lawyer
That I had been able to move back to Zurich with my mother was entirely thanks to my father. For years, he had invested his money in real estate and owned several apartment buildings throughout the city. His claim that he was doing a favor for society was just the worst because Leo was far from being a philanthropist.
On the other hand, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Money had always been at the top of his list. The special deal he madewith my mother would be recouped within a year, especially since nowadays people were willing to pay almost any price for an apartment in the city.
“The funeral was just a week ago,” I said with a trembling voice, making no secret of how much his behavior pissed me off.
Leo was on the verge of losing his temper when Maya walked in with two paper bags. She had cleared out the room that my mother had used as an office.
“That’s everything.” She set the bags down and came over to say goodbye. “You have my number. Call me when you’re ready, and we can go through the stuff together and decide what to do with it.”
“Thanks, Maya.” I put my arm around her and said goodbye. “For everything.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Her venomous glare at Leo didn’t escape me and provided me with at least a bit of solace. Maya also didn’t understand why this move couldn’t have waited another two weeks. However, she knew Leo well enough to understand what it meant when he said he could handle things himself. He would probably have just thrown everything into a dumpster.
Not long after Maya left, Grazia brought a few empty cardboard boxes into the kitchen.
“The bedroom is done,” she said. “Nico, I left some things on the dresser. Maybe you want to keep something as a memento.”
I’d never really gotten along with Grazia—good grief, she was only seven years older than me and technically my stepmother—but since my mother’s death, she had turned out to be a genuinely good person. Without acknowledging Leo again, I left the kitchen and headed into the bedroom.
With every step I took in the apartment, my muscles grew tenser. Standing in front of the dresser, I spotted my mother’s jewelry carefully laid out, and my breath caught in my throat.
I no longer feared losing consciousness and collapsing. The past few days had proven I wasn’t capable of that, despite how much I wished I could just shut down. My thoughts weren’t only about my mother. As devastating as the shock of her loss was and as vast as the emptiness she left behind, what had happened last Friday at Hector’s apartment had completely broken me. Inside, where my heart had been—or the shriveled, dried-out thing that used to be a heart—there was now only a void. Nothing remained, or at least it felt that way. Just a hollow, aching emptiness inside.
I shook off those thoughts and tried to refocus. My gaze fell on a gold chain with a small pendant resembling a seal. In small, delicate letters it read: A Heart of Stone.
I remembered how my mother had bought the pendant from a street artist in London. “If something is carved in stone, it’s made for eternity,” she had said.
“Most people would interpret that saying differently,” I had replied with amusement.
“But we’re not like most people.” The way she had winked at me mischievously, I would never forget.
By now, I knew that even if a heart was made of stone, it could still break. God! I had thought my heart was made of stone. How else could all those one-night stands be explained? But now I stood here, and it was shattered into a thousand pieces.
I took the pendant and examined the rest. There were a few gold chains, earrings, and rings. Two of the rings had small diamonds. Also, Leo’s former wedding ring was among them.
“These are all yours,” Grazia said softly, leaning in next to me.
“I’ll just take this one,” I said, admiring the delicate pendant in my hand.
“If you want, I can take the rest to the jeweler and sell it.”
My head dropped lower.
“It doesn’t have to be done right away. I can keep the stuff for you for now.”
“That would be nice,” I murmured.
As voices drifted in, I cast a quick glance down the hallway and confirmed my suspicion. The Salvation Army was there to pick up the furniture. Grazia noticed how unsettling this was for me and gently placed a hand on my arm.
“It will get better,” she reassured me. “I promise you.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” I could only manage a whisper.
“I was your age when my brother died in a car accident. It was a huge shock for everyone. But over time, it got better.”
It was strange enough that Grazia was trying to comfort me, but the sudden urge to talk to her about Hector—that wasn’t happening. I bit my tongue and kept quiet, knowing I was far too messed up to confide in anyone. Nothing good would come of it.
