You Buried My Daughter, I Burned Down Your Empire

Don Vincent Volkov brought our five-year-old daughter, Sofia Volkov, along with his mistress, Roxanne Vega, to an underworld social gala attended by powerful crime families. During the event, Roxanne complained about her allergies, and instead of leaving the gathering himself, Vincent told Sofia to go alone to a nearby pharmacy to buy medicine for “Aunt Roxanne.”

While crossing the street, Sofia was struck by a speeding motorcycle.

The hospital called me. When I arrived, my daughter was lying on the bed, still clutching the allergy medicine in her small hand. With the last of her strength, she whispered, “Mom… Aunt Roxanne… medicine…” After that, her fingers loosened and the medicine fell to the floor.

I called Vincent repeatedly until he answered. Before I could say anything, he said impatiently, “I told Sofia to buy the medicine. Why isn’t she back yet? Call her and hurry her up. Roxanne is waiting.” Then he hung up and blocked me.

I looked at my daughter’s lifeless body and quietly swore that if Roxanne wanted that medicine so badly, she could be buried with my child.