Chapter 31 Mara
MARA
The rain starts like it’s testing the windows—soft at first, then harder, steadier, until it sounds like the sky’s finally had enough.
I’m curled on the corner of my bed, blanket wrapped around me, phone glowing against my knees. Sleep’s a joke tonight. Nicolo’s been in his office for hours, and every time I close my eyes, my brain decides to replay that morning by the pool and the incident that happened in his office in full HD.
So instead, I scroll.
Matteo’s name sits near the top of my messages.
My thumb hovers. We haven’t talked in days—my fault, mostly.
He’s stoic, I’m emotional, we fight. Or at least what I consider our version of fighting.
You can never get any sense of emotion out of my brother.
He’s more emotionally constipated than Nicolo is.
I finally decide to shoot him a message.
Me
Still alive?
The typing bubble pops up almost instantly.
Matteo
Breathing fine. Lots of meetings. Why?
Me
Just wanted to check on you.
How’s Vivian?
Matteo
I don’t know. Was that all you wanted to ask, Mara?
I hesitate, then type what’s been really gnawing at me since this morning.
Me
Who’s Nestor Vasilios?
It takes him a full minute to reply.
Matteo
Stay out of trouble.
That’s it. No “How do you know that name?” or “Why do you know that name?” Just a command.
My thumbs fly across the keyboard as I itch to push for more information. Matteo is like the human form of an encyclopedia of information about people.
Me
***
Matteo?
The screen says, Read 11:04 p.m. Then nothing.
The typing bubble appears. Disappears. Appears again. Gone.
The rain gets louder.
I stare at the phone until the glow starts to hurt my eyes. The silence between us stretches, familiar and suffocating. He’s gotten more reclusive since Ma’s death. I don’t know if he’ll come around, because this has happened before. When Pops died.
He went radio silent on me, shut me out, and only talked to me when necessary.
I don’t know why my brothers are doing this to me; I don’t have anyone other than them after Ma’s death.
Lucio’s betrayal cuts deeper than I’d like to admit, Emiliano is growing more suspicious and volatile by the second, and Matteo? He’s just shutting me out.
Power corrupts, but it also erodes relationships. My brothers were once dependable, but now I feel more alone than ever. And I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like I can depend on them again. I can’t even trust that they won’t ship me off somewhere every time it gets tough.
They pretend the isolation will protect me, make me safe, but I know what this truly is. It’s control.
I toss the phone onto the bed and press my palms into my eyes. The inside of my head hums with all the things everybody tells me.
Stay out of it.
Everyone says the same thing, just in different ways. Nicolo says it with his eyes. Matteo says it with warnings. Even the storm raging outside my window says it with thunder.
And maybe everyone’s right. But I’ve been too stubborn in my own ways to realize that no matter how hard I fight, nothing will ever change.