Chapter 1
ONE
VANESSA
TWO YEARS LATER
“Uncle Kevin, Aunt Lucy,” I call out as I unlock the door to their apartment.
“I’m in here, sweetie,” Lucy calls from the kitchen.
She’s been a mom to me since I was two, stepping in after my mom passed.
She’s beautiful, with tan skin and long, dark curly hair.
I know I never truly passed as her daughter, not when she’s Cuban and I’m not, but she is the closest thing I’ve had to a mother.
So she’s my mom, just without the formal title.
“Hi, Auntie,” I mumble as I walk around the island and kiss her on the cheek. “Where’s Uncle Kevin?”
I walk to the fridge, grab a soda, and sit at the bar on the other side of the island.
“He had to run some errands.”
“Somewhere I could’ve helped on my way over?”
She gives a small shake of her head. “It’s nothing, sweetheart.”
“Have you heard from him yet?” I ask, referring to my father.
It’s been two years, and he still hasn’t called or messaged. He hasn’t even sent an enforcer, or whatever they’re called, to tell me it’s time to come home.
“No, we haven’t,” she says, turning to look at me. “I know you wish he would call, Vanessa, but I don’t know where he is or what he’s doing.”
“Kevin is one of his best friends. Why won’t he just tell him he doesn’t actually want me around? It’s not like he really tried before.”
“You know the agreement he made with your mother.”
“I know.”
My father promised my mother he wouldn’t drag me into anything I didn’t choose for myself. But he hasn’t given me a choice in anything yet. He hasn’t even seen me since my birthday a few months before I graduated college.
“Your father doesn’t want to break a promise to a woman he loved.”
“I know, but why does he have to hide from me? I should find out where he lives and see him for myself.”
“That is not a great idea.”
“I know it’s not the best idea, but we’ve been here for two years, and he hasn’t even contacted you or Uncle Kevin.”
She gives me a sad look. “Your father asked us to take care of you because he knew we wouldn’t share anything we weren’t supposed to about his life before you were born.”
“Have you kept anything from me?”
“I…” She hesitates. “You know I can’t answer that.”
“I know you’ve hidden things from me, but why not tell me? It’s not like he’s going to come running if you share a few secrets.”
“There are some things your father needs to tell you himself, not me or Kevin.”
“Why doesn’t he just show up and say, ‘Vanessa, I didn’t actually want you. And the whole plan we came up with was bullshit.’”
“You know he doesn’t feel that way. I doubt your father would have you do all this work for him if he didn’t plan to reach out when the time was right.”
“Then why hasn’t he come to my apartment? The one we all know he bought for me. Or the hospital where I work. He has to know where I am at all times, right?”
“I’m not really sure about that. Kevin says he hasn’t seen anyone around or watching you.”
“That just proves my theory that he doesn’t actually care about me.”
“Yes, he does.”
“How do you know? Honestly, no contact after I did the one thing he asked of me.”
“Hey, look at me.” She grips my shoulders, forcing me to meet her eyes.
“I’m going to tell you this once, and only once.
Your father has spent his entire adult life caring for you and the others he loves.
He would do anything to protect them, to keep them safe, even if that means he can’t be here in the flesh every second. ”
She looks at me with tears in her eyes, like she knows more than she’s willing to say.
“Kevin would have told you anything he knows. So far, no one has told him anything at all, which he finds interesting, especially since no one has been following you or watching you.”
I have spent the past two years, and honestly longer than that, angry at my father. Disgusted with him. Wishing he could just be my dad for one day instead of whatever it is he does. Yet everywhere I go, I feel like someone is going to jump out and know exactly who I am.
The friends I’ve made over the years know my mother died and that an aunt and uncle raised me.
They believe my father is a businessman who travels the world, which is why I don’t see him often.
Or really, ever. That is another promise.
I’m not allowed to tell anyone who he is.
He told me when I was sixteen, then walked out the door like he couldn’t look at me.
What he is, is a mafia don. One of the most powerful ones there is.
“Do you wish maybe that he just took me to New York when I was two? That you and Kevin didn’t have to move across the country for me?”
“I wouldn’t change what happened. I never wish for anything different, Vanessa. Your uncle and I would never have met if we hadn’t been sent to Salt Lake to take care of you.”
“I know you’ve told me this story before, but honestly, don’t you ever wish you could’ve been closer to your friends or family?”
“You know the story. My father owed a debt to your family at one point, and the only way to repay it was to have me work for them. When your father came to collect, I started working in his house. After your mother died, he asked me to be your nanny.”
“But then why does it have to be like this? Why didn’t he just leave us alone to be a family, if he’s only going to make me sit here and wait?”
I can see it in her eyes that there’s so much more she wants to say but doesn’t, or can’t, or won’t. Don’t get me wrong, I feel for her, but she and my uncle have always hidden things from me, and it feels like they should finally tell me what’s really going on.
I glance at the clock. It’s already eight at night, and Kevin still isn’t home.
“How many errands did he have to run, Auntie? It’s already eight.”
“Oh.” She looks surprised. “I didn’t realize it was so late. Take some of this food to go. I know you have to be at the hospital tonight for your shift.”
“Okay.” I get up to grab the food, heading for the door. Before I leave, I pause. “You promise that if anything was going on, good or bad, you’d tell me, right?”
“Yes, of course, sweetheart,” she says with a soft smile.
And I fully believe she isn’t telling me the truth.
I leave their apartment convinced something is happening and that, for whatever reason, they aren’t going to tell me.
When I reach my own building, I can’t help noticing, again, how nice it is.
It’s a high-rise overlooking the city, far too luxurious for a nurse who definitely isn’t making a million dollars.
I wave at Andy, the desk attendant, on my way to the elevators and ride up to the twenty-second floor.
My apartment is a spacious one-bedroom, just over thirteen hundred square feet, with a clear view of the Hudson.
It’s spring now, and the streets below are busy, stores and restaurants spilling with people eager for warmer weather after a long winter.
Like I said, this place is very nice almost too nice on a nurses’ salary.
I have to be at the hospital at eleven tonight for my shift, so I decide it’s time to shower and get ready. Maybe I’ll watch an episode of CSI before heading out. I shower, get dressed, and eat the food Aunt Lucy sent home with me. Chicken parmesan. One of my favorites.
By ten-thirty, I’m ready to go. The hospital is about a ten-minute walk from my apartment, close enough that I don’t need to rush. I head out with everything I’ll need for my shift.
The walk is quiet, as usual. New York on a Tuesday night feels calm, which is why I like nights. I pass a few people leaving late dinners, and a couple of night runners wave as they jog by.
It’s peaceful.
I’ve always wanted to be a nurse. Going to school for it was the only option I ever really considered.
I knew it would be one of the few choices I get to make in my adult life before eventually working for my father.
I barely remember when my mother was sick, but I remember the nurses.
The way they cared for her. The way they kept me smiling, even though they knew how bad things really were.
Doing this work makes me feel connected to my mom in a way I never thought possible, helping people when I couldn’t help her.
From the few stories my father and Kevin have shared, I know she would have been proud of me.
I work as a trauma nurse at the hospital. It’s a place I chose deliberately when I applied, knowing it sits in the middle of heavily contested mafia territory between the Irish and the Italians. I figured it would give me the right kind of experience.
I spent the first six months working in the ICU before I was cleared to work in the trauma unit.
This hospital is a hotbed for mafia members.
I spend countless nights treating gunshot wounds and watching men slip into comas after brutal injuries.
They try to intimidate us at first, but it doesn’t take long for them to realize we won’t take any of their shit.
We treat them like any other patient. You learn early not to ask questions.
You treat the injuries and let them leave when they want.
After putting away my bag and getting everything together for the shift, I head over to the desk to meet Lauren, the nurse I am taking over for.
“Hey, Vanessa,” she calls when she notices me approaching.
“Hey, Lauren. How is it tonight?”
“Not horrible yet, but the night is young.” She smiles. Her golden hair is pulled into a French braid that’s starting to loosen, a clear sign it’s been a long shift.
“Anything I need to be aware of?”
“Nah. The NYPD or FDNY hasn’t called anything in yet.”
She gets up from the desk, hands me the charts from the night so far, then heads toward the locker area. She works second shift now, ever since her third baby was born.
“Have a good night, Lauren. I’ll see you later.”
“You too.” She smiles back.