Chapter Thirty Bianca
Chapter Thirty
Bianca
Her phone only rang halfway before she picked up.
“Bianca what’s going on? Is everything okay?” Harry’s voice carried with it a touch of panic.
“I need you to find Mila’s location. She’s gone missing.”
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“Your girlfriend, or fiancée, or whoever she is … she told Mila about Gerard being her father.”
Harry went silent for a long moment. “Jen did?”
“It wasn’t her fucking place,” Bianca shouted. “And I think she’s been sending me text messages. Stalking me like a psychopath.”
“What kind of text messages?” he asked.
“Sinister, creepy ones. Why don’t you ask her about it,” Bianca said. “In the meantime, can you find my daughter, please? I need to try to fix this.”
She’d always been careful about not referring to Mila as my daughter but always said our daughter, in order to keep the peace. But today she didn’t care about being considerate of his feelings or thoughtful. At this moment Mila was her daughter, and that was it.
“I’ll find her location,” he said calmly.
Bianca ended the call. Pain rested heavily on her chest.
Remi pulled the SUV into the beach parking lot at Bodega Bay and shut off the engine.
Without uttering a single word, Bianca stepped out and walked slowly toward the water, the wind tugging at her dress.
The waves were aggressive as they crashed against the shore.
Mila sat alone in the sand, knees pulled tightly to her chest, staring out into the ocean as if she was waiting for it to speak to her—to give her the answers she so desperately needed.
To help her make sense of the chaos that had just unraveled in her life.
Bianca sat next to Mila, not close but a short distance.
For a moment neither of them spoke, only the sound of waves filled the space between them. Finally, Bianca broke the silence. Her voice was soft and laced with regret.
“I know you hate me now. And I don’t blame you. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. If I could change what happened, I would. If I could change how I kept it all a secret, buried for years, I don’t know, I still might.”
Mila didn’t respond. She just kept her gaze fixed on the water.
Bianca continued, choosing her words carefully.
“Your dad and I made the decision that it was better for you not to know. Not until we were ready to tell you. We didn’t want to complicate your life.
You were Harry’s daughter in every way that mattered, and he didn’t want that to change.
Neither did I.” She paused. “Harry loves you more than life itself, Mila. That’s never been a lie. ”
Mila’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Who does that to their best friend, though?” she asked.
Bianca inhaled. “Someone very young and stupid.”
Remi and Zoe joined them, forming a circle in the sand. Remi settled between Mila and Zoe and took each of their hands in hers.
She looked at Mila, then turned to her daughter. “Zoe, you and Mila were already sisters…have been since before you could walk.”
Zoe nodded slowly in agreement.
“And Mila, you and your mother … you were building something, healing what was broken between you. You were really starting to bond. You shaved your head. Not just because your hair was falling out, but in solidarity. Against cancer. Against rape.”
“That was before—”
“Before you found out the truth. I know,” Remi said gently.
“And you have every right to be upset. We all do.” Her eyes drifted to Bianca.
“This has disrupted all our lives, for sure.” She turned back to Mila.
“And your feelings are valid. Our feelings are valid. We’re hurt.
We’re mad as hell. But maybe … just maybe we don’t have to let it destroy us.
Maybe we can still find a path forward.”
They all sat in silence.
“What if we can’t recover?” Mila asked softly. “This is so much.”
Remi gently squeezed her hand. “We will, sweetheart. I truly believe that we will. Certainly not today, and maybe not even tomorrow, but we will.”
Mila stared straight ahead, her face still holding on to the pain. Bianca could see she wasn’t ready to let go.
They all clung to Remi’s words.
Zoe rested her head on her mother’s shoulder.
The weight of it all still hung in the balance, but a glimmer of hope hung there too. And for that, Bianca was grateful.
At the house, Bianca made herself a cup of ginger tea and carried it to the sunporch along with her laptop.
She needed to decompress after the day’s events.
She was fatigued, but not just from the radiation treatment she’d endured a few days earlier, from the emotional toll of everything that had transpired. She was exhausted.
She sat on the wicker love seat and gazed into the evening sky, letting herself sink into the cushions.
Her body surrendered, but her mind was on a million different things.
She tried to make sense of what healing might look like now, and whether it was even a possibility.
What would her abuelita think of her now, all wrapped up in this mess?
Could those rosary beads and prayers get her through this?
She pulled the laptop into her lap and logged into the Chic Threads inventory system and did some work.
She needed a distraction. Fourth of July sales were good with so much traffic in the city for the Essence Festival.
April, May and July were her best months, when the city hosted festivals and foot traffic was booming in the French Quarter.
She loved being in the mix of it all, meeting people from all over the globe.
It was the reason she loved Chic Threads so much—the people.
And the joy of making them look and feel good.
Amelia was holding it down for her—running the boutique seamlessly.
Bianca was grateful for her. On impulse, she opened a new tab and ordered a gift certificate for an entire afternoon of pampering and tranquility at Amelia’s favorite day spa in the French Quarter.
She sent it to her with a simple note: “Thank you for everything.”
She closed the laptop and sipped her ginger tea. Her mind drifted back to the day’s events—Mila shouting at her, calling her out for betraying her best friend. She’d certainly felt as if she’d hit rock bottom.
When she heard the door creak open, she knew who it was.
“So much drama today,” Remi said, cradling the stem of a wineglass, the bottle in her other hand.
“To say the least,” Bianca murmured.
“I think Mila will be okay. She just needs time,” Remi said, taking a seat in the chair opposite Bianca. “None of us knows what tomorrow will bring.”
“Yeah. But I’m not sure how many more tomorrows I really have,” Bianca said, her voice flat. With her gaze fixed, she sipped her tea.
“Let’s just hope you have many more. That the radiation treatment was successful.”
“If not, my options are starting to dwindle.” Bianca shook her head, reality hitting her hard.
Remi took a sip from her wine; her eyes fixed on Bianca. “The Bianca I know wouldn’t let any of this defeat her. She would fight like hell—until there’s no fight left in her.”
“I’m softening, Rem. Tired.” She breathed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. “I have fought my whole life.”
“Giving up is not an option. That would be too easy.”
Bianca nodded faintly but didn’t speak. The truth was, her will to fight was slowly slipping away.
Finally, she said, “I have a daughter who hates me, a best friend I pushed away, and a disease that’s trying to kill me. What exactly am I fighting for?”
Remi didn’t blink. “All of those things. That’s exactly why you fight.”
Bianca shrugged. Her silence was saying what her voice couldn’t—that she didn’t believe that anymore.