Tony sat quietly, watching as Remo drank his third glass of whiskey, the tension between them palpable. It wasn’t like Remo to indulge so heavily in alcohol, and the four cigars he’d already gone through in less than an hour were a clear sign that sothing was very wrong. Tony could feel the shift in his friend’s mood, the usual composed, almost unreadable expression giving way to sothing darker, more conflicted.
Tony knew better than to press Remo for information; if he wanted to talk, he would. Instead, Tony tried to steer the conversation to sothing relevant, hoping to gauge Remo’s state of mind. "There’s still a dead end on who killed Abby’s father," Tony said, keeping his tone casual, almost as if he were comnting on the weather. "I don’t think we’ll ever know."
Remo didn’t respond, didn’t even look his way. His gaze was fixed sowhere on the wall, the tendrils of smoke from his cigar curling around him like the thoughts that must be swirling in his mind. It was unsettling, seeing Remo like this—so detached, so uncharacteristically lost. Tony wasn’t sure what to make of it.
"Remo, did you hear ?" Tony asked, a bit more forcefully this ti, trying to pull his friend back to the present.
Remo finally turned to look at him, his eyes glazed over as if he were coming out of a deep fog. The confused expression on his face only lasted a mont before he looked away again, as if he hadn’t really seen Tony at all.
"Do you believe in destiny and fate?" Remo asked suddenly, his voice rough from the cigars and the whiskey.
Tony was taken aback by the question. It wasn’t like Remo to delve into such abstract topics, especially not in this context. Still, Tony took a mont to consider his response, knowing that whatever was on Remo’s mind, it was important. "Yeah, I do," Tony finally replied. "I think that so things are ant to be, that people are brought into your life for a reason. Sotis, the universe has a way of pushing you in a direction you might not understand at the ti, but later you see that it all fits together. Maybe it’s to teach you sothing, or to test you, or to make you stronger. And sotis, fate gives you what you need, not necessarily what you want."
Remo nodded slowly, as if he were processing Tony’s words, but the far-off look in his eyes remained. "Can soone be obsessed with you through letters written about you? Can they plan on eting you? Lie to you, act docile just to make you fall in love with them? Can love be this manipulative?"
Tony frowned, trying to piece together what Remo was getting at. The line of questioning was strange, even for soone as intense as Remo. "What are you talking about?" he asked, genuinely confused. "People who are desperate might do anything just to get what they want, even if it’s love. But that doesn’t make their love any less genuine. They just put more effort into it, more calculation. It’s not always right, but... sotis people act out of fear of losing sothing they want badly."
Remo chuckled, but there was no humor in it. It was a dark, bitter sound, as if Tony had confird sothing Remo had already been dreading. "Dig into Abby’s past for ," Remo said, his tone suddenly serious, almost chilling. "Especially her dical history. I want to confirm sothing."
Tony’s surprise was evident on his face. "Why?" he asked, his voice low, trying to understand what was going on in Remo’s head.
Remo finally looked directly at Tony, his gaze cold, hard. There was no hesitation in his voice when he answered, "I think I married a psychopath."
Tony’s heart skipped a beat at the accusation, the weight of it pressing down on the room. The words hung in the air between them, heavy and suffocating. Tony searched Remo’s face for so sign of doubt, so hint that maybe he was overreacting, but there was nothing—just a steely resolve, a determination that whatever Remo had learned, it had shaken him to his core.
Tony sat back in his chair, trying to process what Remo had just said. Abby, a psychopath? It was almost impossible to believe. She was always so composed, so intelligent, so... well, in control. But then again, that was exactly what made Remo’s claim so unsettling. If anyone could hide sothing like that, it would be soone with Abby’s self-discipline.
"Remo... are you sure?" Tony asked cautiously, not wanting to push too hard but also needing to understand what had led Remo to this conclusion.
Remo’s jaw clenched, and he took another long drag of his cigar before answering. "I’m not sure of anything anymore," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice almost imperceptible. "But there are things... things she’s said, things I’ve found out that don’t add up. Letters she received from Izabella ... letters about , before we ever t. She was obsessed with before she even knew . And there’s more... things about her past, things she hasn’t told . I need to know the truth, Tony."
Tony felt a chill run down his spine. He had never seen Remo like this—so shaken, so desperate for answers. It wasn’t just about Abby’s past; this was about trust, about the very foundation of their relationship. If what Remo was suggesting was true, it would change everything.
"I’ll look into it," Tony finally said, his voice firm. "But Remo... if this is true, if she’s really been hiding sothing like this... what are you going to do?"
Remo’s expression darkened, and he looked away again, staring into the distance as if the answer was out there, sowhere beyond his reach. "I don’t know," he admitted quietly. "But I have to know the truth. I need to know who I really married."
Tony nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. Whatever happened next, it was clear that nothing would ever be the sa again.
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