Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Rachel
The rain came down hard, neon lights outside the window stretched into blurred streaks through the water.
I sat in the car, fingertips numb with cold, clutching a brown paper bag filled with cash and documents. Charles looked frantic, slamming on the gas, weaving through traffic. I lurched side to side with every swerve.
The next second, Charles hit the brakes. We smashed into something. The world spun. I flew from the car and landed hard in the pooling water. I lifted my head, drenched, and there was Matteo, face dark, pressing a gun to my temple.
"You know my secret, and you thought you could run?"
I went limp, watching his finger tighten on the trigger.
"No!"
I screamed and shot awake—another nightmare.
I gasped for air, glancing at Sofia sleeping beside me. Thank God I hadn't woken her.
I exhaled, got up, and poured myself water in the kitchen. The cold water eased the panic but couldn't cut through the chaos in my head.
Four years ago, Charles helped me escape New York. He'd insisted on staying with me, but I wanted nothing more to do with mafia families. He only left when his family called with some emergency.
I found out about Sofia not long after I got to Camden.
She was such an easy baby. Back in New York, no morning sickness, no sleepless nights.
If moving here—the apartment hunting, the job searching—hadn't worn me down enough to notice the signs, it might've taken even longer to realize she was there.
I rubbed my hands together. Early spring still had a bite. But it was time to wake Sofia. She had to be at preschool in an hour.
I patted her awake. She sat up, wrapped in her little blanket, hair a mess, clutching her teddy bear. Those deep eyes locked onto mine—Matteo's perfect imprint on this world. Every time I looked at my daughter, that man's shadow stabbed straight through my defenses.
"Mommy, will there be blueberry pancakes today?"
"Yes," I said, pulling her sweater over her head and avoiding her gaze. "If you wash up and get dressed in five minutes, I'll save you the biggest one."
She perked up immediately, raising both arms to help me. "Then I'll be fast. I'll be Mommy's first customer."
"Baby, you're always my first customer." I kissed her forehead. The little girl bounced off the bed toward the bathroom.
After dropping Sofia off, I headed to the diner.
Still called it Sea Breeze Diner—I figured if Leona ever ran here, she'd recognize the name and come find me.
I pushed through the door. Molly was slumped behind the register yawning, school uniform under a sloppy cardigan, name tag crooked.
She straightened up fast when she saw me, flashing a guilty grin.
"Morning, Rachel. I'm not late today."
"Congratulations!" I hung my keys on the wall. "Tie your apron, pull your hair back, and refill the sugar packets and paper cups before we open."
"Yes, ma'am." Molly stuck out her tongue and got to work, moving quick at least.
I flexed my stiff fingers and grabbed a rag to wipe down the outside tables. I straightened the last wooden chair, dusting off my palms. The morning light hit the neat row of outdoor tables, fog still clinging to the glass, the sweet smell of fresh pancakes already filling the air inside.
Molly finished the cups and sidled up to Becca, snagging a blueberry. She scrolled her phone, then gasped, shoving the screen at Becca, eyes full of gossip she couldn't contain.
"Look at this," she said, trying and failing to whisper. "This charity gala in New York. The auction went insane. It's all over the internet."
Becca glanced over and shook her head. "Those people spend money like it's nothing. What they spend in one night could keep this whole block alive for years."
"God, I wish I could see New York someday," Molly said, locking her phone. "Skyscrapers, galas, fancy cars. That movie kind of life. Must be incredible."
The mug in my hand clinked against the counter.
Like someone pressing on an old wound through the skin.
High-rise apartments on Central Park South.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking lights that never died.
The cold scent of wood and leather on a dark suit.
And those black eyes that, whenever they found me, left me nowhere to hide.
I set the mug down and wiped the already-clean counter. Four years. I should've learned to feel nothing about that city. But some things just won't stay buried. The more you avoid them, the deeper they burrow, until your eyes sting.
I rubbed my eyes.
"Rachel?" Becca called. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," I said, looking up with a smile. "Just zoned out. Let's open."
I delivered coffee. Molly was already taking orders at the second table. Becca restocked the display case with fresh scones. Dana hollered from the kitchen that she needed help with two sunny-side-up orders. I turned and headed back, grabbing the skillet, shoving the complicated thoughts aside.
After the lunch rush, I untied my apron and checked the clock. Time to get Sofia. Molly saw me reaching for my jacket and looked up.
"Picking up the little one?"
"Yeah," I nodded. "Twenty minutes round trip. Watch the front. And don't go giving customers discounts."
Molly grinned and ducked behind Dana. Becca handed me a small paper bag with two fresh mini cinnamon rolls inside.
"For Sofia. I made extra today."
"Keep feeding her like this, she'll forget I'm her mother."
"Sounds perfect. I'll take a ready-made daughter."
I left smiling and headed to the preschool. Sofia threw herself into my arms the second she saw me, cheeks flushed from the wind. First thing she asked was whether there were blueberry pancakes at the shop today.
I walked her back, and the second we stepped inside, Molly spread her arms wide. "Look who's here! Our little princess!" Sofia ran over laughing, and Molly scooped her onto the stool behind the register.
"I painted a whale today," Sofia announced seriously.
"Let me see." Molly dug through her little backpack for the drawing. "Wow. This whale looks meaner than my math teacher."
Sofia dissolved into giggles. Watching them, that tight knot in my chest finally loosened.
After closing, the shop went quiet. I pulled down the gate, locked it, and settled Sofia on a stool behind the counter with her picture book. I opened the register. Today's earnings, bills and coins, needed sorting. I separated them by denomination and stacked them neatly.
Sofia swung her legs. "Mommy's counting treasure again!"
"That's right." I smoothed a stack of twenties and ruffled her hair. "Very important treasure."
She giggled and went back to her book. I set aside what I needed for inventory and payroll, then pulled a fixed amount from what was left and slipped it into an envelope. Same routine every month. Not a dollar more, not a dollar less. Every cent I could squeeze out.
Four years ago, the startup money Charles gave me saved my life and helped me open Sea Breeze in Camden.
He sent money regularly after that, but I never touched it.
I was grateful he helped me leave, but I didn't want to owe the Vitales forever.
Didn't want that past chained to my ankle through a debt.
I tucked the envelope away. It was completely dark outside now. Sofia yawned and reached for me. I scooped her up, turned off the last light, and carried her out the back door toward home. She slumped against my shoulder, breathing warm and steady.
Back home, I'd just gotten Sofia settled when the doorbell rang. Through the peephole, I saw Mrs. Miller from next door.
"Sorry, Rachel, bothering you so late," she said, wringing her hands. "My kitchen light just went out. John's working the night shift at the port. I've got a pot on the stove, and I can't see a thing. Could you come look at the fuse box, or at least help me get the pot off the burner?"
I glanced back at Sofia's door and nodded. "Let me grab a jacket."
Mrs. Miller's kitchen was old. With the light out, it was pitch black. I turned down her burner, then climbed on a chair to check the breaker box. Ten minutes later, I got the overhead light working again. She thanked me over and over, insisting I take two fresh cornbread muffins.
"Sweetheart, you're a lifesaver," she said, hand on her chest. "I would've eaten in the dark tonight. Come on, let me walk you back."
I tried to refuse, but she wouldn't hear it. When we reached my door, there was a bouquet of white lilies of the valley sitting on the flower stand. No card. No note. Nothing.
"Oh my God, Rachel, looks like someone's courting you. Way classier than those boys in town with their grocery store roses."
"Probably the wrong address."
Mrs. Miller looked like she wanted to say more, but seeing I wasn't interested, she turned and left.
The next morning, I opened the door, and my chest sank. Another bouquet of white lilies of the valley on the step. This time I threw it farther. Didn't even care when a stem cut my finger.
It didn't stop. Third day. Fourth day. For a week straight, the lilies kept coming like a curse.
I was still staring into space when Molly walked in holding a brown paper package.
"Rachel, this is for you," she said, setting it on the counter. "Someone just dropped it off."
I took it, confused, and carried it into the storage room. Light package. No return address. Just my name. I tore it open. Inside was an old flip phone and a note.
"Watch the video. Then decide if you want to save yourself and your child."
I turned on the phone. A video loaded. Matteo walked out of an abandoned warehouse. Behind him, a figure lay motionless on the ground. He pulled a handkerchief from his chest pocket, wiped his hands, tossed the bloodstained cloth aside, and walked away without a glance back.
My stomach turned. My palms were slick with sweat. The phone buzzed. A message popped up.
"We've been investigating the Vitale family for years. Call that number. Testify. You and Sofia enter witness protection. You'll be free. New life. New identity. New start."
All I had to do was identify Matteo as mafia. They'd take me and Sofia away. New names. New home. New everything.
The bait was perfect. Every logical, emotional reason screamed at me to dial that number. But I couldn't do it.
I was terrified of Matteo. Terrified he'd find me. Terrified he'd take Sofia. But fear or not, using this evidence to destroy him—I couldn't.
Finally, I turned off the phone and buried it at the bottom of a drawer.
That night, after putting Sofia to bed, I pulled out the old cookie tin from the back of my closet. Inside were two fake IDs, a few prepaid SIM cards, and the backup escape route Charles had left me.
I spread everything on the bed. This time, I really had to run.