Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
“Some truths drown you long after you’ve learned how to swim.”—Aria Boschett.
If I had known it was the last time I’d see her, maybe I would’ve grabbed her hand.
Maybe I would’ve begged Mom not to leave.
But I didn’t. I just stood there in my socks on Nonna’s worn hallway rug, with Mom.
Her perfume was floral, familiar, clinging to the air like a promise she couldn’t keep.
“Remember, honey, this is only for a little while. You’ll see. Everything will go back to how it was.”
I wanted to yell that things could never go back to how they were Daddy was dead. If I hadn’t begged him to go out, if I hadn’t insisted; he’d still be here and we’d still be a family —I’m a curse. But I didn’t. Mom didn’t deserve that, so I smiled. “I’ll be okay, Mom.”
She pulled me into a tight hug, kissing my cheek. She smiled. I could see she was tired, although Mom tried to hide it.
The next morning, the cops found her empty car, driver’s door open, keys gone, her seatbelt still buckled.
The police searched, but it led nowhere.
Even at thirteen, I already knew the truth.
First Dad. Then Mom. Now Nonna slipping away piece by piece.
Everything I love disappears because I am cursed.
***
Cyan’s family photo burns in my hands, too close to memories I’ve spent years burying.
I set it down as if it’s scalding hot and step back, retreating as if ghosts might follow me into the hallway.
No. Not tonight. If I let myself sink into the past, I’ll drown in it.
Hurrying through the still house to my bedroom.
The curtains billow from an open window, letting in a soft ocean breeze that brushes over my skin like a whisper.
The pool glimmers below—dark, rippling, quiet.
For one dangerous moment, it feels like it’s calling to me.
The weight of my memories presses harder: my mother, my father, and Nonna.
All the ways I failed them. Cyan, Tasha, the secrets I keep.
Guilt grinds into my ribs like an iron vice.
Turning on my heel, I cross the room toward the closet, fingers brushing over a selection of bathing suits.
Black? Sleek and practical, something that hides me away.
Red? Bold, defiant, like a challenge to the girl I used to be.
The words Rosa told me resurface in my mind.
Don’t let your past self-decide for your present self. So, I choose red.
Slipping outside, I take in the pool house, the luxurious cabana space, the indoor pool for colder months, and the entertainment area built for guests.
Maybe the next dinner should be here. A more relaxed setting, where tensions wouldn’t boil over like they did the last time. I’ll suggest it to Rosa when I see her.
The red swimsuit clings to me like a dare as I step closer to the pool’s edge.
Moonlight shimmers across the water. The estate is quiet–the cabana lights low, the ocean a steady hum over the hedges next to the cliffside.
My toes skim the edge of the pool before dipping into the water.
Exactly what I need, I dive into the deep end.
Underwater, everything stops. No more memories, no guilt, no Cyan.
Just mental silence. I stay there until my lungs are bursting, I push off the pool bottom.
When I break the surface, breathless, the peace shatters.
“Hey there, Aria.” I turn, blinking the water from my lashes as I take in Lucilla...
She’s seated on the lounger as if she hadn’t shattered into pieces at the dinner table about a week ago.
Legs crossed, black jeans sharp against her pale coat.
Her hair is smooth. Her lipstick is perfect.
Not even a strand of hair out of place. Her smile is soft, but her eyes are not.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was a carved ice statue.
“Hey, Lucilla.” I tread water cautiously. The water laps against my shoulders as I angle toward her.
She uncrosses and crosses one leg over the other. “How are you? Mind if we chat?”
“Sure,” I swim closer to the edge of the pool where she sits. A flicker of wariness snakes through me. She looks different this evening. I can’t put my finger on it—maybe because she’s sober. “What’s on your mind?”
Lucilla exhales, clasping her hands in her lap. “I wanted to apologize. For dinner. I shouldn’t have embarrassed Thomas.”
“It’s fine, everyone has bad nights.”
“He hates it when I drink,” she murmurs. The way she says hate makes something uneasy coil in my stomach.
“You don’t need to apologize to me.”
“But I ruined your welcome dinner.” Her voice wavers. “The family don’t like me already. I think I made it worse. I just want Thomas to love me. But I keep messing up.”
Her tone is…so raw that I can’t help but feel sorry for her. I guess she hasn’t figured it out yet. You cannot force someone to love you. “I’m sure they care; the family adores Evie, and you’re her mother, so it must be the same for you.”
Her smile is brittle. “Evie, yes. Me? No. Rosa thinks I’m weak. In this family, Rosa’s word is law.”
Lucilla lets out a dry laugh. She looks away. “I don’t want to drink like that. But Thomas and the guys… they’re always out. With other women.”
My stomach drops. “What? Thomas is cheating on you?”
Her silence speaks volumes. Lucilla stares at the water, as if it holds all her secrets. “He thinks I don’t know. But I do. My friend Elana…she’s with Cyan. Those two have been on and off for a while. He took her to the Mayor’s Ball. Elana said she sees him when he’s in Boston.”
My heart stops. “What?” The word comes out strangled.
Lucilla’s head snaps up to face me; she’s pale. “I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t tell Cyan. Please.”
I climb out of the pool, wrapping the towel tight around me to hide the sudden shaking in my hands. Elana. Cyan. Of course. How could I have been so stupid?
Lucilla continues, voice trembling, “It…slipped out…I-I didn’t mean to.”
For the first time, her makeup-perfect facade cracks.
The exhaustion, the fear, the loneliness.
It’s all bleeding through, and I see it–she’s mentally drowning.
To sit here smiling, pretending the man she loves isn’t in another woman’s bed?
The bitter thought coils tight in my chest. I actually thought I might want this.
In a couple of years, I could be Lucilla.
“Please don’t say I told you,” Lucilla begs, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, like she’s physically trying to hold herself together.
“I won’t.”
Her relief is immediate. “Thanks. I don’t want Thomas angry at me.” There’s something in her voice, low, guarded, that makes my skin prickle. I wonder if she’s safe. Is this a Rosa and Roberto situation? Does Thomas hit...?
Lucilla exhales. “Thanks so much, Aria. I’ll owe you one. You’re lucky, you know. This house? So much better than mine. The view. The square footage. If I were you, I’d redecorate.”
I grip my towel tighter. “Lucilla, this is Cyan’s house. I don’t intend to be living here long term.” The sound of footsteps has me turning.
Rosa approaches, smile fading when she sees Lucilla. “Aria,” she pauses. “Lucilla.”
“Evening Rosa.” Lucilla says as she rushes to her feet. “Thanks for listening, Aria.” Her voice is soft, her shoulders drooping despite her straight posture. “I should go.”
When she disappears around the corner, Rosa turns to me, expression unreadable. “What did she want?”
“To apologize,” I snap, sharper than I intend. “Why don’t you like her?”
Rosa sighs. “It’s not dislike. It’s distrust.”
“What?” My frustration flares. “She’s Thomas’s wife and she thinks she not wanted here. I can see why.”
Rosa’s eyes sharpen. “Aria, there are things you don’t know.”
Yeah, like Cyan still being with Elana. I don’t say it. I just press forward. “She seems isolated here, and she’s drinking because she feels unwanted–”
“Aria,” Rosa cuts in gently. “Do you know why Cyan installed biometric locks?”
I blink. “Security? To keep me captive.”
Rosa’s jaw tightens. “Not originally. Lucilla broke in one night. Drunk. Wearing lingerie. After a fight with Thomas. She went to Cyan’s bedroom and tried to seduce him.”
My world tilts again. My thoughts blur. Lucilla tried to seduce Cyan.
I see her again in my mind–the tight smile, the flickers of fear, the cracks in her voice.
I remember her eyes searching mine as if she wanted someone to see her.
She reminds me of myself in a way, before I met Tasha.
Lucilla probably needs someone to talk to.
“I’ll talk to her, let her explain.” I whisper, turning.
“Aria, wait.” I look back.
Rosa’s voice softens. “You are kind, Aria. But remember, trust is everything in this family. Don’t let the wrong person play with yours.
” Her gaze lingers meaningfully. “Learn from how we met. Don’t give your trust away so easily again.
” Her words landed like stones of truth.
Rosa turns and walks back to the house. But her warning stays behind, heavy as salt in the ocean air.
Rosa’s trust. Lucilla doesn’t have it, and if she ever finds out about Ethan, about the FBI. ..Neither would I.