Chapter 2 #2
I sold my car when I moved to New York, deciding that walking and catching public transport would be easier—live in the New York lifestyle everyone talks about.
But I didn’t factor in the late-night walks home.
Just past midnight, the city is still a buzz with noise, but the couple of blocks walk back home feels extra lonely and always has me on edge.
But tonight feels odder than normal, the air feeling colder and unshakable, every step towards my apartment feels heavier.
I keep glancing over my shoulder only to be met with empty streets, but the hairs on my neck stand on edge, as a chill snakes down my spine.
Someone is watching. I can feel it, even if I can’t see them.
I quicken my pace. Keep it together, I tell myself. Reaching for my apartment door, my hands are now trembling as I go to unlock it.
Hurrying inside, I drop my keys into the bowl by the door and quickly lock it.
My apartment is deadly silent, just how I left it…
thank God. Kicking off my shoes, I quickly move down the hallway, unzipping my skirt and peeling my shirt off on the way to the bathroom.
A noise from my dining room halts me in my tracks.
My heart starts slamming hard in my chest.
From the darkness of the dining room comes a voice, cold and stern. “Miss Charlotte O’Reilly.”
My scream rips through the silence. Hands shaking, I grab the nearest objects I can find in the lounge room and fling them blindly at the mysterious voice.
A pillow, TV remote, and a candle. “Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my home?” My voice cracks, laced with fear.
I grab a book and throw it at him as well.
He sighs, irritation dripping from his words as he turns on the light, dropping into my dining chair and sips from one of my coffee mugs. “Miss Charlotte, if you stop throwing things for a second, I can explain why I’m here.”
He doesn’t fit the normal intruder persona. He looks over at me in his four-piece tailored suit, his black hair neatly combed back. I stand still on the spot, but my anger simmers just beneath my fear. How much of my apartment has he violated without permission?
“You have five minutes before I call the cops.” I reach for a pillow to hold over my bra, feeling slightly exposed in front of him.
He chuckles softly. “Joseph Milano.” He straightens the front of his suit. “I’m your mother’s—Caterina Carlisi’s—lawyer. I have an envelope for you.”
From his coat, he produces a large white envelope, placing it carefully on the edge of my table and taps the top of it.
I stand stunned, mouth agape. My mother.
The words hit me with such force, knocking any response right out of my mouth.
Until last year, it had just been me and Dad for twenty-five years.
"Sorry… ” I stutter. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”
He doesn’t flinch. “No mistake. You are the daughter of James O’Reilly and Caterina Carlisi.
Inside this envelope is your original birth certificate and DNA proof, amongst other items. These documents should settle it beyond question.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other urgent matters.
” He stands and straightens his expensive suit jacket before walking to the front door.
I watch him move silently away. “How do I contact you if I have questions?”
He doesn’t spare me a glance. “You don’t. My work here is done.” And then he walks away like he was never here.
Throwing the pillow onto the couch, I move fast, locking the door again. Checking it twice more, just to be sure. The cold metal turns in my fingers for confirmation. It’s locked, but I can’t help checking it again.
I finish stripping off my skirt that’s barely clinging to my waist and run around my small apartment turning every light on and searching every corner.
It only takes me a couple seconds, but not a thing is out of place.
Not that I have a lot of furniture anyway—just the basics to get me by and a few boxes of belongings I brought with me from the rental I shared with my father.
But my mind still races knowing that there was a strange man in here.
Did he respect my personal belongings? Or was he just careful enough not to leave a trace?
I couldn’t tell which one worries me more.
Grabbing the bottle of vodka from the kitchen, I scull directly from it, the burn a sharp edge I desperately need before lumping onto the couch. I stare down at the stark white envelope in my trembling hand. I’m half desperate to rip it open but also half wanting to throw it away.
Memories crash through my thoughts…
“How was your day at school?” my dad asks me as we skip along the path to get some ice-cream—our Friday tradition.
“It was okay,” I mumble.
Dad bends down so he’s at the same height as me, sensing that I’m holding back. “Charlie, what happened?”
“They’re stupid,” I say.
“Who is?”
“The kids at school. They tease me, Daddy.”
The protective side of him starts to show as his shoulders stiffen, and his face hardens. “What do they say?”
“They say my mommy left me because she doesn’t love me.” I sniffle. “Why doesn’t she love me, Dad?”
He scoops me up and pulls me to his chest. “Let’s get some ice-cream.”
Dad just finished reading my favorite bedtime story: Cinderella.
He tucks me in to bed, wraps the blanket around me like a cocoon, pressing along the edges, making sure it’s tight against me, and places a kiss on my forehead.
“Goodnight, Charlie,” he says softly before turning away and flicking off the light.
“Daddy?” I ask.
“Yes?”
“Do you think Mommy is in heaven like Cinderella’s?”
“Go to sleep, baby,” he says and walks away.
“Where have you been, Charlotte?” Dad yells at me as I storm through the front door.
“Nowhere!” I shout back, taking the stairs two at a time as I try to retreat to my room, but Dad is quick behind me.
“Stop right there,” he says once he reaches me, turning me around until I’m facing him. “I’ll only ask once more. Where were you?”
“At Stacey’s,” I lie, trying to hide the fact I was at a party with older guys.
“Then why did she call twenty minutes ago looking for you?” he demands.
I shrug. “I don’t know, maybe a joke.”
“You think this is funny, Charlotte? You’re fifteen. You don’t know who is out there!”
“What has gotten into you today?” I bite back.
“You have to tell me where you are at all times. If not, you’ll be grounded.”
“Aargghhh!” I scream in frustration. “I bet Mom wouldn’t have been this strict.”
“If only you knew,” he mutters under his breath. I want to ask him what he means by that but before the words come out of my mouth, he has retreated into his room, shutting me out once again.
It had always been just me and Dad against the world.
He never brought home any partners; just the two of us.
But that was shattered last year at twenty-six years old, and now I’m all alone.
My only lifeline is Mel, but I have no one to talk to about this.
My dad is no longer around to guide me, and Mel wouldn’t understand—she grew up in a perfect household, her parents still together living in an apartment they bought in Soho.
Shortly after we finished school, Mel wanted to leave suburbia, so her parents sold their house and moved into the city with her.
A constant reminder that we grew up in very different worlds, but they say opposites attract, and we have been best friends since middle school.
I take a shaky swallow of vodka, trying to burn away the tears. I leave the envelope on the table as I flee to my room, in desperate need of an escape.
I grab my favorite purple vibrator out of the drawer, hoping the release can pull my mind away, even if just for a few seconds.
I lay back on my bed, my muscles tense from stress, but my thoughts drift to that condescending ass from the club last week, again.
I try to imagine what his hands would feel like running over my body.
Would his touch be soft or hard? Definitely hard.
He looked like the dominant kind. I play with my nipples in one hand, teasing myself to help me come quicker, letting the sensation roll over me like waves.
I finally ease my body enough to help carry me towards sleep.
Morning hits me like a freight train, and my head is pounding, my dry mouth begging for water, and a desperate craving for coffee that no amount of caffeine could satisfy right now.
Every muscle screams, every thought muddled.
I stumble into the kitchen, barely holding it together.
My thoughts are instantly back at the man who dropped off the envelope.
After pouring myself a coffee, I walk to the table, and my hand lands on the envelope.
I decide to open it. A neatly folded letter falls out, along with a phone and more papers.
My sweet Charlotte,
If you’re reading this, it means that something has happened to me. I’m sorry we never got the chance to meet, and that I had to leave you as a baby, but it was out of love and a need to protect you and your father—the only man I’ve ever loved.
Even though I stayed away, I never stopped watching you grow up. I made sure you were always safe. After you and your father left, I couldn’t bear the thought of having any more children. So, I threw myself into the family businesses, molding it into the empire it is now.
But since I am gone, it’s time for you to claim what’s rightfully yours. Your legacy is waiting for you. Inside this envelope, you’ll find my will, details of a trust set up just for you, and a new phone. The family estate and businesses are yours, but only if you accept what comes with it.
You must live in the estate for one year before the ownership is transferred to you. During that time, you must quit your job. Learn about our family history, a story spanning decades, built on blood, loyalty, and power.
Don’t you dare think about firing any staff or asking them to leave. They’re part of this family’s backbone, and their loyalty is worth more than gold.
If you agree, use the phone I’ve given you to contact Luciano. He’ll help you move and settle in.
This is the path you were destined to walk, Charlotte.
With love,
Caterina, your mother
Reading my mother’s words feels like I’m stepping into a strange dream.
The conditions are clear enough: live in a mansion, learn about my family’s past, and don’t fire anyone.
That should be easy, but I’m unsure if I should accept it or not.
If this is the life I was meant to live, why did Dad shield me from it?
But on the other hand, what do I have to lose right now?