Chapter 119 A name they won't write
Lina’s POV
Morning came too peacefully.
The sun spilled through my curtains in soft golden streams, warming the room as if nothing in the world was wrong. It painted everything in a gentle glow—the walls, the floor, my hands resting over the sheets.
For a minute, it felt like one of those quiet mornings where life behaved. Where problems didn’t exist.
But even roses have thorns.
I exhaled slowly and pushed myself up, my body heavy, my mind heavier. The events of yesterday came rushing back in fragments—Ruciano’s name, Victor at the door, the fear in my parents eyes, the way Erla had refused to look at me.
Today, I have to act.
I rubbed my face and reached for my phone. 8:02 AM.
A sharp sigh slipped out of me.
“Great,” I muttered under my breath, already swinging my legs off the bed. “Running late on the day I need everything to go right.”
I stood up quickly, brushing my hair back with my fingers as I stepped out of the room. The house was quiet, but not the heavy kind from last night, this was softer, almost normal.
I made my way downstairs, expecting to start breakfast but the smell hit me first.
Warm. Sweet. Familiar.
Pancakes.
I blinked, stepping into the kitchen, only to find Mom already there, moving around like she’d been awake for hours.
“Lina?” she called, startled when she turned and saw me. Her hand flew lightly to her chest. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I said, a small smile tugging at my lips as I leaned against the counter. “I came to make breakfast, but… clearly I’m late to the job.”
She chuckled softly, turning back to the stove. “You’ve been carrying too much already. The least I can do is this.”
My eyes shifted to the counter. Cornetto platter neatly arranged. Syrup. Fruits. Plates already set aside.
She’d thought of everything.
“And I figured,” she added, glancing back at me, “you wouldn’t want the girls going to school today.”
I paused.
“You didn’t even get them dressed?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. I think they need to stay close… at least for now.”
Something tightened in my chest. She understood. Without me having to explain.
I walked toward her slowly, my steps quieter now. “Mom…” She turned slightly, just in time for me to wrap my arms around her.
“I love you.”
She froze for a second, just a second—before her arms came around me, warm and firm.
“I love you more, baby,” she murmured.
I held her a little longer than usual. Before I pulled back, giving her a small smile.
“Alright,” I said, clapping my hands lightly as if to shake off the weight pressing on my chest. “Let’s set the table. Today’s going to be… a lot.”
She nodded.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “It is.”
Plates clinked lightly as I arranged them on the table, aligning everything just right out of habit more than necessity.
Control.
I needed control.
“Okay…” I muttered, stepping back to check the setup. “Good enough.”
I turned and headed upstairs.
The girls room door creaked softly as I pushed it open.
“Rise and shine,” I called gently.
Rotha stirred first, her small body shifting under the covers. Erla didn’t move.
“Come on,” I added, walking in. “Brush your teeth. Breakfast is ready.”
Rotha sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. “Mama…”
“Yeah, baby?”
She yawned. “Do we have to go to school?”
“No,” I said quickly. “You’re staying home today.”
Her face lit up instantly. “Really?!”
I chuckled softly. “Really.”
Erla turned slightly on the bed, her back still facing me. “I’ll be downstairs,” I added quietly, glancing at her. “Don’t take too long.”
Dad was already awake when I checked on him.
“Breakfast is ready,” I said from the doorway.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he replied, adjusting his watch.
I nodded and left.
By the time I returned to the girls’ room, Rotha had somehow managed to crawl back into bed.
“Rotha,” I called, raising a brow.
No response.
I walked over and gently shook her. “Baby girl, get up.”
Her eyes fluttered open, half closed, half lost in sleep.
“Mama…” she murmured.
I smiled despite myself. “Come on. Brush your teeth.”
That did it.
Her eyes snapped open, and she sat up quickly. “Okay!”
I laughed lightly, taking her hand as we walked to the bathroom.
Breakfast started quietly. Rotha sat beside me, swinging her legs slightly as she ate, a soft smile on her face. Erla sat across from me, focused on her food, her expression unreadable.
Dad and Mom exchanged small glances, but neither spoke.
The silence pressed in.
I set my fork down.
“Erla…” I called softly.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice gentler now. “For yelling yesterday.”
Rotha’s smile faded slightly. Erla still didn't look at me.
“I didn’t mean it,” I added quickly. “Mama was just… overwhelmed.”
“Erla?” I called again.
She didn’t look up.
“Are you still angry with mama?”
Silence. She paused mid-bite.
“I don’t like it when you're angry,” she muttered.
“I know,” I said softly. “And I won’t get angry again.”
She finally looked up.
“You promise?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “I promise.”
She studied me for a second longer—
Then she smiled.
Small. But real.
And just like that, the weight in my chest eased… a little.
I stood up, grabbing my phone as I stepped away from the table. Time to move. I dialed quickly.
“Nico, good morning.”
“Morning, Lina,” his voice came through, slightly rushed. “It’s almost 9 AM and you’re not at work—”
“Nico,” I cut in gently. “I know.”
A pause.
“Something came up,” I continued. “Can you cover for me?”
He exhaled. “You know the kind of boss we have.”
“I do,” I said. “Please.”
Another pause.
“…Fine,” he muttered. “What else?”
Relief washed through me. “I need help. Do you know anyone who can fix CCTV cameras? I need it installed at my place. Today.”
Silence.
“Nico…” I pressed.
“You’re not telling me something,” he said slowly.
“I will,” I replied. “Later. Just—please.”
He sighed. “Alright. I’ve got a friend. I’ll call him now.”
“Thank you,” I breathed. “I owe you one.”
“You owe me a coffee date,” he teased lightly.
I almost smiled. “Deal.”
By the time I returned to the table, the girls were done eating, chatting quietly with Mom.
“Mom, I—”
My phone rang.
It was Nico, I picked up the call. “Nico,”
“He’s on his way,” Nico said. “Should be there soon.”
“Good,” I nodded. “Send me his number.”
“Already did.”
I ended the call and turned to Mom.
“I’m heading to the station now,” I said quickly. “I’ll send you the contact information of the CCTV technician. He’ll call when he arrives.”
Mom frowned slightly. “You’re leaving already?”
“Yes.”
Dad looked up sharply. “Alone?”
“I’ll be fine,” I replied.
“Lina—”
“I have to do this,” I cut in, softer now. “I can’t wait anymore.”
The room fell quiet.
“Okay,” Dad said finally. “But call us when you get there.”
“I will.”
I turned to the girls. “Stay with Grandma and Grandpa, okay?”
“Yes, mama,” Rotha chirped.
Erla just nodded.
I grabbed my bag.
And left.
\~~~
The police station felt colder than it should have. Sterile. Quiet in a way that didn’t feel safe even though it is supposed to be the safest place for me.
I walked in, my heels clicking softly against the floor. A few officers moved about, some talking, others buried in paperwork.
Normal routine for them.
I approached the front desk.
A man sat there, flipping through a file. Late twenties, maybe. Dark hair, sharp features, eyes that lifted slowly to meet mine.
“How can I help you, ma’am?” he asked. His voice was neutral. Not cold. Not warm.
I straightened slightly. “I want to lodge a complaint.”
He nodded, reaching for a book. “Against who?”
My fingers tightened around my bag strap. “Ruciano Belleni.”
The pen stopped moving. Slowly… he looked up. Something in his expression shifted. Subtle. But there.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a beat.
My brows furrowed. “Sorry?”
“I can’t register your complaint.”
The words didn’t make sense.
For a second, I just stared at him.
“What?” I asked, my voice quieter now—but sharper.
He didn’t repeat himself.
Didn’t explain.
Just held my gaze.
“I said,” I stepped closer, my pulse beginning to rise, “I want to file a complaint.”
“And I said,” he replied, his tone still even, “I can’t register it.”
A chill crept down my spine.
“Why not?” I demanded.
A pause.
Then—
“Because,” he said slowly, “some names… don’t get written down here.”
My stomach dropped.
“What does that even mean?” I pressed.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine.
“It means,” he said quietly, “you should go home.”
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