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Alessandro Ricci had gotten his private jet to take him to Mercton as fast as it possibly could.

He sighed as he thought back to the conversation.

"Mrs. Ricci perished earlier this week"

He couldn't grasp the fact his mother was dead.

He knew who was sending him and his brothers all those "anonymous" letters that annoyed the hell out of their father.

They'd read them together and then hide them in a box that was in Ciro's closet.

It was sad to say they had to hide letters from their mother so their father wouldn't find them.

His brain blocked the fact that death still applied to her.

It was inevitable. Alessandro himself has taken many lives.

Some deserved it. Some just pissed him off on the wrong fucking day.

But overall he never pulled a trigger unless it was perfectly necessary.

His train of thought was broken once he felt his eyes droop slightly and his body sag further into the leather seat.

He was mentally and physically exhausted.

He let his eyes droop once more and stopped to think.

If the twins were his parents biological children, what did they look like?

And with that question he drifted off into a a haze of sleep and let his mind rest for the first time in forever.

Meanwhile in Mercton, Nevada

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Meanwhile in Mercton, Nevada

Vincenzo groaned loudly at the questions being grilled on him.

The officers had taken Vittoria to a different room (after they had to use brute force to separate to the siblings from each other) for questioning.

The questioning was for their mother.

Her body was never found.

Valeria Valdez-Ricci disappeared three months before now and because she still hadn't shown up, she was proclaimed as dead.

Both siblings knew something wasn't right.

It felt like some Enola Holmes bullshit.

Their mother smacked them because they went to the neighbors house to ask for flour, without telling her.

She would never do this.

Vittoria already has a storm brewing in her brain.

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