CHAPTER 60
A t a soft knock on the door, I opened my eyes that were sticky with dried tears. Darkness blanketed the room, save for the soft glow of Christmas lights around my window.
“Lil?” Conner peeked his head inside the door. “I’m gonna go up to Callahan’s. She’s got–”
“Conner, I know you two have something going on, okay? It’s fine.”
His lips flattened, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Was just …. I didn’t know if it was too soon after your mom.”
“It’s been four years. It’s fine.”
“Okay. You need anything?”
“I don’t think so. You’re not … planning to have Angelo over anytime soon, are you?”
“Nah. I ain’t seen much of him, at all. The guy is so fucked in the head after he heard what happened to that rich prick.”
“What happened to him?” Part of me didn’t want to know. While I’d always been peripherally aware of Conner and Angelo’s shady dealings, I’d never dipped too much of myself into their business.
It was a shadowy world I’d kept on the fringes. One that scared me.
Not that I had much choice, anyway, the way Conner was so secretive about it.
“Had his eyes gouged. Dick cut off. All of his guts were stretched out on the floor around him. Whoever did that was one sick bastard.”
“You told me the guy he killed was some kind of sadist. Not a saint.”
“Right. I’m sure he did worse. Anyway, I haven’t talked to Angelo in about two weeks.”
A small relief after the shitstorm I just went through. “I’m just gonna sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll go out and see if I can find a job.” The last thing I intended to do was stick around in the apartment all day, lamenting in my bedroom.
“Okay. But again, I got you for a couple weeks, okay? You don’t have to rush into something. I still feel like shit for Bee’s tuition.” As he should have, but I kept that to myself. “How’d you get them to let her stay?”
“Just figured things out. She’s good for a couple months.”
“Cool. All right. You get some sleep.”
With a nod, I rolled back over in bed, staring out at the night sky.
I touched the screen of my cellphone, and when it remained black, I shot up in bed.
Following the trail to the end of the cord showed that I hadn’t bothered to plug it into the wall to charge earlier.
“Damn it!” A low battery light lit up the screen when I shoved the cord into the socket. I fell back onto my pillow, sighing.
Devryck having left on business meant not even he would’ve been looking for me just yet. But when he returned, what would he think?
My mind drifted back to the day on the beach, when he’d taken me for my first dip in the ocean. The drive in his car along winding roads. The moments we stole away. The kisses. His touch. Would I ever see him again? Or would he one day fade into the perfect dream?
I reached over the edge of my bed, and from my suitcase, I pulled out my mother’s painting of the swing and the ocean. Through a mist of tears, I stared at the view I’d hoped to one day make a reality for me and Bee. Even as brief as my visit at the house had been, it felt like home. My true home.
I held the painting to my chest, and as the tears slipped down my cheek, my finger dragged over a lifted corner of the canvas’s backing, where I must’ve shoved it too hastily in my suitcase.
I ran the frayed edge through my finger and caught sight of something behind it.
Stuffing my pinky into the small gap, I felt something inside.
I tugged at the backing’s loose corner, popping it free from the staples, and once peeled back enough, I found a folded paper had been secured to the inner part of the canvas.
What the hell?
I unfolded the paper to find a letter.
Signed by my mother.
Two weeks before she’d died.
My Sweet Lilia,
If you’re reading this, I either forgot about it, in which case, I suspect we’ll be having a lengthy conversation afterward. Or my illness got worse and you’re looking for answers. Either way, I suppose it was meant to be.
I’ve spent hours, days, deciding how to go about telling you things I’ve kept to myself for a number of years. Important things. As my illness seems to be progressing, I feel compelled to leave something behind, and it wouldn’t be fair to carry all my secrets with me.
I’ll preface this by saying that no one in this world is more important to me than you and your sister. Every decision I made, I did out of love for the two of you.
That said, I’ve lied to you, my love, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
While you’ve always known me as Francesca Vespertine, my real name is Vanessa Corbin.
I was born on a small island off the coast of Maine called Dracadia, where generations of our family have lived.
In fact, we are descendants of the first colonists.
Which would’ve probably been a cool conversation to have, if my past weren’t so riddled with dysfunction.
A year before you were born, I met a charming doctor who convinced me to join a study at the university to help cure my diabetes.
We fell in love, but he was married at the time, so things were a bit complicated.
Particularly when I got pregnant with you, and he asked that I terminate the pregnancy.
The mere suggestion of such a thing tore at my heart, and I refused—a decision that angered both him and my father.
Your father threatened that if I decided to go through with the pregnancy, he would ensure that I’d never get custody of you.
I was young and stupid and scared. So I fled with nothing more than the clothes on my back and cash in my purse.
And the longer I stayed away, the easier it was to stay away, because having to explain nearly two decades of avoidance just seemed harder.
The lies to protect you had snowballed out of control.
Then about two weeks ago, I went home for my mother’s funeral.
I know you thought I was looking into surgery for Bee, but telling you the truth at the time was complicated.
Again, forgive me. I only wanted to see my mother one more time and perhaps find a way to secure the home that I grew up in, a place where you, me, and Bee could live freely.
Unfortunately, the house had gone into foreclosure and it turned out the new owner was your father.
I should’ve walked away. I wish I had. I was foolish to think the years had made him wiser. Had changed him in any way. I was wrong.
He doesn’t know about you. I lied and told him that I’d suffered a miscarriage and lost the pregnancy. Not because I didn’t want you to have a relationship with your father, but because he’s a dangerous man who can’t be trusted. I lied to protect you, Lilia.
Therefore, I won’t give you his name. While I suspect you’re smart enough to put pieces together based on what I have told you, I’m urging you to set aside your anger for me and stay away from him. Believe me, you’re better off without him.
In the event that I do not get well, do not seek him out for anything. You’ll get through things. You always do.
I love you and Bee very much. Infinitely. And I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl.
Love Forever,
Mom
Tears slipped down my cheeks, which I quickly wiped away as I frowned down at the letter.
I suspected it was Lippincott she was referring to, even if she’d refused to say.
She must’ve met with him about the house—the timing of it all precisely just before she’d gotten sick.
Could he have been the one to infect her?
The sound of a hard thump somewhere in the apartment interrupted my thoughts. Muscles steeled, I glanced back toward the door, and after slipping the note and painting back into my suitcase, I tiptoed toward it, pressing my ear to the wooden panel.
Had Conner returned?
Cracking the door, I stepped out into the hallway for a better listen. “Conner? Is that you?”
No answer.
Another hard thunk , and I jerked.
I padded halfway down the dark hallway, ears perked, and scanned the kitchen and the small living room across from it.
No sign of anyone.
Cold tendrils of fear slithered across the back of my neck, and I dashed back to my room for my phone to call Conner.
I swiped the phone still charging on my nightstand—only ten percent battery—and sprinted back toward the door.
When I swung it open, Angelo stood in the dark hallway, his form illuminated by the small bit of light from the kitchen.
The air stalled in my chest, and my stomach dropped.
His hair stood at cocked angles of disarray, and the beard and mustache covering his face told me he hadn’t shaved in a while. Red rimmed eyes spoke of little sleep, or drugs, and he appeared thinner than the last time I’d seen him.
On a frenzied beat of my heart, I pivoted toward the front door and dashed down the hallway, in the opposite direction. Body slamming into the door with the momentum, I fumbled with the lock.
Searing pain lashed my scalp, as Angelo wrenched my hair back. “’The fuck you think you’re going, bitch!” A hard slam against my hand knocked my phone loose, and it bounced out of reach.
I opened my mouth to scream, and a dirty hand palmed my face, his fingers digging into my cheeks. Scream muffled, I clawed at his hands and bit down on his thumb. Hard.
“Ahhh, you fucking cunt!” He released me, and I spun out of his grasp, standing face to face with him.
He blocked the doorway, licking the blood from his thumb.
My phone lay to the right of him.
Adrenaline coursed through me in hot pulses, while my mind scrambled for a plan.
The knife. I’d tucked my pocketknife under my pillow earlier.
And the fire escape sat right outside my window.
I darted back toward my bedroom, Angelo’s heavy footfalls chasing after me.
The moment I entered my room, I spun around and slammed the door shut, pressing hard against the wood, and reached for the lock.
He plowed into the other side of it, kicking me back a step, and a scream shot out of me.
I pushed hard, muscles straining to close it. C’mon!