Lorenzo Vitale
Mia Sartori smiles radiantly, as if appreciating an excellent spectacle. Her features remain almost the same as they were over twenty years ago. Her hair is unruly, a black that is not natural to her, for I remember well the indiscreet red that shaped her face. She was less than twenty-five when she left and, certainly, not into the arms of death.
"A deal with Mia, the dead woman?" Arturo questions, as if testing her name and solidifying her return to the world of the living. "You must be joking!" He surprises us, laughing. "I could congratulate you for making fools of all of us for years, but before that, how do we know this is true?"
"We have two options. The Don can confirm it, or I can say something that only Mia Sartori would know."
My brother stares at me, demandin
