Chapter 56
Daisy Peonia Mary Parker
Silver River, South Mississippi, USA
I had only felt that kind of pain twice in my life: when I lost my Papa, and when I witnessed Lester’s death. Now, it was back, heavy in my chest.
The taxi moved steadily through the streets of Silver River. Huddled against the window, I was grateful the driver was busy humming to himself. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want anyone to see me or even look at me. A deep, dark hole to crawl into, that was all I wanted.
Before I could stop it, my lower lip trembled and tears began to fall again. I couldn’t believe he had sent me away. Not after everything. He hadn’t even taken me to the plane. It was Luca, Donatella Condello, and, of course, Fabiano who had accompanied me, making sure I left Italy for good.
Making sure I left him.
I pressed a hand against my mouth to stifle my sobs and stared out the window. Two months ago, I hadn't wanted to leave Silver River. Now, going back was the worst possible scenario. I no longer belonged in Mississippi. Not when my foolish heart was in Calabria, with Camillo.
My hands rested on my knees. When the taxi turned a corner, sunlight streamed through the window, falling directly on my left hand. The peridot sparkled, a painful reminder of something that hadn't lasted long enough.
Camillo sent me away to protect me, not understanding that protection was the last thing I wanted. I’d already been overprotected. By my Papa. By Aunt Lizzie. By Olivia. By Lester.
I preferred the danger. The death it carried and all the risks that came with it.
“This way, miss?” the driver asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Yes. Thank you.”
The car turned another corner and my heart leapt into my throat, caught between surprise and joy. Papa’s house appeared before me, but not as I had left it. It was back to the way it used to be. Just as it was when Papa was alive.
The previous owners had stripped away the brick facade, replacing it with white siding. They’d swapped the French doors for modern wood and turned the classic windows into glass panes that barely opened. But during the months I’d been away, it seemed my aunt had reversed all of it.
The two-story house once again wore its orange brick facade. There were brand-new black French doors with golden handles. The columns were white again, too.
When the car pulled up, I couldn’t bring myself to move. Stunned, I watched as a giant southern magnolia stood on the right side of the house, complete with a small wooden rope swing. Just like when I was a little girl.
It was impossible. The former owners had uprooted that tree. Yet there it stood, full-grown, making it feel as if time had flowed backward.
“Daisy!” A woman’s scream made my eyes widen. My aunt was running toward the taxi, followed by Oliver and Olivia.
I quickly paid the driver and stepped out with the suitcase Luca had insisted I bring. I hadn’t even moved two meters when my aunt threw herself at me, choking me in a tight embrace, filling my lungs with her signature bubblegum scent.
“Honeybee! Oh my God, why did you lie to us?” she wailed, her voice muffled against my hair.
She knew everything. So did my best friend. And Oliver. After Camillo asked Liv for help, I’d had no choice but to reveal the whole truth.
“Daisy Doll,” Oliver called. I looked up over my aunt’s shoulder, refusing to let go. My former boss looked distraught, his eyes sunken in a way I’d never seen. “Damn, girl. You scared us to death.”
I didn’t answer. My gaze shifted to the beautiful, dark-haired woman behind him.
Olivia’s face was taut with anxiety, her eyes stinging with tears she refused to let fall.
I swallowed hard. If Olivia knew what I had done—if she had the slightest suspicion that I had executed three children in cold blood—she would never forgive me.
In that moment, I realized that for the first time in twelve years, an abyss was opening between us: a secret I could never reveal.
My aunt stepped back just enough to look at me. “Did those mobsters hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No, Aunt Lizzie,” I murmured, sniffing back tears. “At least, not the ones who took me to Italy.”
“It was the guy who showed up at the diner that day, wasn’t it, doll?” Oliver asked, stepping closer. I noticed how he placed a protective hand on the modest curve of my aunt’s belly, and I couldn’t help but smile sadly.
“It was, Oli. It was,” I confessed.
“Damn. I knew that dude was fishy,” he admitted, rubbing his chin. “Those tattoos he had… those are prison ink. They only give those to people who ‘take care’ of others on the inside. I should’ve known it was a bad sign.”
A shiver ran through me. I wondered what they would say if they knew I’d give anything to go back to him. To the man they saw as a mere criminal.
“Daisy…” Olivia’s voice was like velvet. I wanted to hug her, but I hesitated. Did I still have that right? When she finally strode forward and pulled me to her, I broke down. I sobbed into her shoulder. “When that guy called me, I… I thought we’d lost you,” she whispered.
“I’m fine.” I sobbed. No, I wasn’t. But she couldn’t understand that. “They kidnapped me, but Camillo saved me.”
Olivia pulled away, searching my face. “That Camillo is the one who caused all of this.”
I shook my head, wiping my cheeks. “No, he didn't. The man who took me was a monster. A human trafficker.”
“And you think Camillo Vicari isn’t just as dangerous? Daisy, that mobster has killed more people than you can imagine.”
“Good men sometimes do terrible things.”
Olivia smiled, yet I felt no warmth in her expression. Quite the opposite.
“The situation was traumatic. It’s normal for you to be confused.”
My brow furrowed, and before I knew it, I was walking away from her with quick, angry strides. “I’m not confused,” I growled, perhaps too harshly. “Camillo is a wonderful man.”
“Daisy. That’s Stockholm Syndrome.”
Olivia’s words were a punch to my stomach. Aunt Lizzie approached me and placed a sympathetic hand on my back, drawing soothing circles. “There’s time to discuss this. I’m sure Daisy just wants to rest.”
But there was no time. Or if there was, I didn’t care anymore. “What I feel is a far cry from mental illness,” I snapped. Olivia’s eyes widened, but I didn’t give her a chance to reply. “I’ve been dead inside for too long to let you tell me now that the love I feel is just a trick of the mind.”
Olivia wanted to fire back; I could see it written all over her face, in the defiant tilt of her chin. That was why I quickened my pace toward the house. It wasn’t just my best friend I was turning my back on. It was the person I used to be.
I stepped inside.
Walking through those hallways again was like being sucked into a whirlpool of memories.
My pace slowed as my mind took in the sight before me.
The renovation had extended to the interior as well.
There was that beautiful white wainscoting again, with floral engravings along the bottom of the walls.
As soon as I entered the living room, I found two modern salmon-pink sofas that perfectly mimicked the ones my father used to have.
I paused near the seats, looking around to take everything in. My aunt had arranged pictures of me and Papa, and… of Lester.
I moved forward cautiously, a chill running down my spine. Above the fireplace, in the space between the mantel and the TV, was a small white frame. In it was an old selfie, taken with Lester before we had even started dating.
I frowned. I could have sworn that picture was only on Lester’s phone.
“Do you like it, honeybee?” I turned at the sudden, cautious sound of my aunt’s voice.
I swallowed hard, a thought tearing at my insides. It was always wonderful to see Lester again, but the truth was… he wasn’t Camillo.
I forced a reluctant smile. “It’s… lovely,” I croaked, wrapping my arms around myself.
At that moment, Oliver appeared behind Aunt Lizzie, stroking his gray goatee with hands covered in silver rings. There was a clear sense of apprehension on his face.
“Liv went home…” he murmured, looking at me with the caution of someone walking on eggshells. “She’s just worried about you, Doll. We all are.”
My shoulders slumped with a deep sigh. “You have no reason to be.”
“Honeybee…” Aunt Lizzie sighed, slowly sitting down on the sofa. “First, we thought you were living out the romance of your life. Then we find out it was all a lie and you’d been snatched by some wannabe Don Corleone! I thought we were going to lose you.”
“He would never hurt me,” I defended, feeling like an intruder in my own home.
But instead of doubt, I found a smile full of tenderness on my aunt’s face.
“I know he wouldn’t,” she murmured, and my heart raced.
She reached out an arm to Oliver, motioning for him to sit beside her.
I couldn't help but smile as I watched him place a tender kiss on her cheek. “You said it yourself. Good men sometimes behave badly. This one here is proof of that.” She laughed, and Oliver gave her a sulky look. “And I know we don’t love them any less, no matter how serious their crimes may be.” As she spoke, her green eyes—the same shade as mine—locked onto me.
“But you have to understand that Olivia thought she was going to lose her best friend. And I…” Her throat caught.
“For me, it was like losing my brother Paul all over again.”
I sank into the opposite sofa and sat facing my aunt.
My insides were knotting into a tangled web.
Before he became my Papa, he had been like a father to Aunt Lizzie.
They’d been orphaned young, and he’d ended up raising his younger sister on his own.
Between my own grief and everything that had happened, I hadn’t stopped to think about what this meant to her.
Suddenly, those last twelve years flashed before my eyes in a fraction of a second.
Selfish. That’s what I’d been every time I’d wanted to die. I’d focused only on my own pain and ignored what my absence would mean to Aunt Lizzie. To Olivia. Even to Oliver. Maybe the greatest act of courage and selflessness, at the end of the day, was simply choosing to keep on living.
“I’m sorry…” I murmured softly. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“Your aunt knows that, Doll. We all know it. Even Olivia. Just as we understand that you’re suffering.” Oliver surprised me. He had never been a shallow man—quite the opposite. But seeing him so serious was always a shock. “Listen, kid… He sent you back to protect you. You understand that, right?”
I nodded, tears streaming down my face. “That’s what he said.”
Oliver snorted. “I respect him for that. I’ve been part of that world. One day you’re breathing, the next, your brains are baking in the sun. That’s no life for you, Daisy Doll.”
“What if it is?” I whispered, afraid of my own words. I watched Oliver straighten up and cast a worried glance at my aunt. “What if right by his side is exactly where I need to be?”
My aunt stood up and slid over to my sofa, gripping my hands tightly. “If that’s where your happiness lies, I’ll buy you the plane ticket to Italy myself. But give your soul and your mind some time before you make a decision,” she urged. “Until December, Daisy.”
“I don’t even know if he’ll let me come back.”
“When you open a bird’s cage and it flies back through your window, it’s there to stay. If you ever go back to Italy, believe me, that man won’t send you away again,” she murmured, her voice carrying an unusual firmness. “But I need you to wait until December, Honeybee.”
“Why? Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I won’t just be giving you my blessing to go back to Italy or to that man. I’ll be giving you my blessing to die at any moment. And if that’s the case... let it be for love.”