Alessia
The grief over losing my mother has taken me by surprise. It’s not that we were close. She spent most of her life drowning herself in alcohol, trying to stay numb against my father’s infidelity. But she was still my mother. And now that she’s gone, there’s an emptiness—not for what we had, but for what could’ve been.
Without a doubt, I know my father killed her. That’s the hardest part—living with the certainty that he saw her as nothing more than a liability, a loose end. The man who gave me life is the same man who took hers. It leaves me wondering what kind of poison might be running through my blood.
I’d like to believe his sudden disappearance means he’s done with this twisted game. That maybe whoever I was promised to accepts I’m married to Antonio and no longer wants me. That my father’s done haunting me. But I know better. I’d be a fool to believe that.
I’m a loose end now, and my father doesn’t leave loose ends. He killed my mother, and I know I’m next.
Antonio sent Nicki and Cecilia to Italy a little over two weeks ago. They weren’t thrilled about leaving, but they didn’t argue either. They’re as used to this life as I am, but in a much different way. They’ve always known the love of their family, so instead of putting up a fight, they accepted it with a quiet understanding.
Cecilia begged me to go with her. Although she doesn’t know the full extent of the threats, she knows that they somehow involve a danger to me. When a tear slipped down her cheek, I nearly cracked. But when I looked at Antonio, I knew I couldn’t leave.
Still, a part of me wonders if I should’ve gone. Maybe disappearing across the ocean, far from my father’s eyes, would’ve been the smart choice. But another part of me refuses to give him that satisfaction. He hasn’t left. He’s watching, lurking in the shadows—I can feel him. Running would only prove what he’s always believed—that I’m weak, afraid.
That might’ve been true once. But not now.
Not anymore.