"Where's Papa?"
Claudio sighs. The sound carries exhaustion. Frustration. Something else I can't name.
"He left three days ago."
Three days.
"Left where?"
"New York." Claudio's voice drops lower. "Said he had business there. Something the Sartoris asked him to handle."
The Sartoris.
I grip the phone tighter. "What kind of business?"
"He didn't say. Just packed a bag and told me he'd be gone for a week. Maybe two."
Two weeks.
My father. Alone. In New York.
Far from anyone who might watch him. Far from anyone who might stop him.
"Did he seem..." I trail off. I don't know how to ask. Did he seem like he was about to destroy everything again?
"He seemed fine." Claudio reads my silence. "I know what you're thinking."
"Do you?"
"You're thinking he's going to find a card game. A casino. Something."
I don't answer. I don't need to.
"Nella, he doesn't have any money. The Sartoris control everything now. His accounts. The business. He couldn't gamble if he wanted to."
The words should comfort me.
They don't.
"He's found money before," I say quietly.
Claudio goes quiet.
"I'll keep an eye on things," Claudio says finally. "If anything seems off, I'll call you."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
I want to believe him. I want to trust that this time will be different. That Papa learned his lesson.
But I've wanted to believe before.
I've trusted before.
And every single time, Papa has proven that his addiction is stronger than his love for us.
"Call me if you hear from him," I say. "Even if it's nothing. Even if he just checks in."