12. Gilly
Gilly
Some ghosts don’t wait for sleep to haunt you.
Some claw their way into the silence, refusing to be forgotten.
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, my pulse thrumming in my ears. The mansion is silent, but it’s not peaceful. It’s the kind of silence that waits. That watches.
Beside me, Rafa sleeps soundly, his small body curled under the covers, his breathing soft and steady. I should be sleeping, too. My body aches for rest, my limbs heavy with exhaustion, but my mind won’t shut off.
Not after what I found tonight.
The photo. The ring.
Proof that Luca was watching us long before he took me.
A shudder rolls through me.
For three years, I convinced myself I escaped. That I ran before it was too late.
But I was never free.
Not then. Not now.
I shift carefully, sliding out of bed without disturbing Rafa. My bare feet hit the cool marble floor, but the chill does nothing to steady me.
I need air.
Moving like a ghost, I slip out of the bedroom and down the hallway. The mansion is still, the heavy weight of the night pressing down on my shoulders as I make my way to the balcony.
The moment I step outside, humid air wraps around me, thick and suffocating. But at least I can breathe out here. At least I can pretend, for a moment, that I’m not trapped.
The Miami skyline sprawls out before me, glittering with possibility. A city I used to belong to.
A city I no longer recognize.
My fingers curl around the railing as I exhale sharply.
I should have known it would come to this.
I should have known that no matter how far I ran, Luca would find me.
Or maybe he never lost me in the first place.
My stomach clenches, a sick, twisting knot of dread pulling tight in my chest. I can’t do this. I can’t be here, under his roof, under his control.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the panic away.
And then the memories hit.
Hard.
---
Three Years Ago
I never meant to see it.
I was just doing my job. Just another late night at the office Boston, another case file to comb through, another puzzle to solve.
I was good at this. Great at this. A rising star at my firm, already handling high-profile cases that no one else could crack.
That night was supposed to be routine.
A financial investigation—some Miami-based shell companies suspected of money laundering. I should have been home by midnight, curled up in bed, congratulating myself on another job well done.
Instead, I found it.
A folder buried deep in encrypted files.
Hidden.
I should have ignored it. Should have shut down my computer and gone home.
But I didn’t.
I clicked it open, scanning through rows of data—bank transactions, offshore accounts, coded messages.
Then I saw the photos.
And my blood ran cold.
A body.
Sprawled on the concrete. A gunshot to the head, execution-style.
A federal witness. A man who had agreed to testify against one of Boston’s most powerful crime syndicates.
And standing over the body…
Luca Marchesi.
---
The memory slams into me like a freight train, my breath catching in my throat.
I tighten my grip on the railing, my knuckles white.
For three years, I’ve carried that image with me.
Luca, looming over a dead man.
Luca, cold and lethal, his face unreadable.
Luca, the reason I ran.
And now, I’m back in his world.
Back where I swore I’d never be.
Back where he always meant for me to be.
My grip on the railing tightens, the cold bite of metal grounding me, keeping me from spiraling. But it does nothing to stop the flood of memories.
I should have closed the file.
I should have walked away.
But I was a lawyer in Boston. A damn good one. I had built my career on chasing the truth, on exposing the people who thought they were untouchable.
And for one reckless moment, I let myself believe Luca Marchesi could be just another criminal on a case file.
I stayed. I dug deeper.
The timestamps on the photos told me everything.
The federal witness was murdered just hours before he was supposed to testify.
And Luca had been there.
I remember the way my hands trembled as I scrolled through the rest of the file.
Bank transfers. Shell companies. Sealed court records that had mysteriously disappeared.
And then—Luca’s case.
A federal investigation that had vanished overnight.
It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together.
Luca had him killed.
I had no doubt.
And I was staring at the proof.
A slow, crawling dread crept through my veins.
I wasn’t supposed to see this.
I wasn’t supposed to know.
For the first time in my life, I felt real, gut-wrenching fear.
Not the kind of fear that comes from a bad case or a lost trial.
The kind of fear that tells you run.
Because I had just made the biggest mistake of my life.
I didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.
I wiped the logs. Deleted the files.
And I ran.
---
Present Day
A sharp gust of wind whips against my skin, dragging me back to the balcony, back to reality.
But the fear lingers.
My chest is tight, my breath uneven. My hands tremble as I drag them through my hair.
I thought I had locked this memory away for good.
But now, staring out at the city below, trapped in his house, I know the truth.
I never outran it.
I never outran him.
A sick, twisted part of me wonders—what if I had stayed?
Would Luca have killed me?
Or would I have ended up like every other person who crosses him?
I shake my head, shoving the thought away. It doesn’t matter. I left. I saved myself.
And yet, here I am.
Back in the center of his world.
Back in his orbit.
My stomach knots. My chest tightens.
The Luca I knew three years ago—the one I feared, the one I ran from—isn’t the same man I see now.
That Luca would have hunted me down immediately. That Luca wouldn’t have waited years to come for me.
So why did he?
Why did he let me believe I was safe?
And why the hell was he watching me all this time?
A shudder rolls through me. I fold my arms over my chest, as if I can physically hold myself together, as if I can stop the slow, unraveling dread creeping into my bones.
I need to leave. I need to get out of here.
But a quiet, insidious voice whispers in the back of my mind.
You found the photos, Gilly.
But what if you got it wrong?
I clench my jaw, shaking the thought away before it can take root.
No. I know what I saw.
I know what Luca is.
I ran for a reason.
And if I’m not careful, I’ll have to run again.
If he lets me.
I grip the railing harder, my fingers aching from the strain.
The thought won’t leave me.
What if I got it wrong?
No. I know what I saw.
Luca standing over a dead man. A federal witness executed hours before he was set to testify.
I force a shaky breath past my lips.
But doubt slithers through the cracks in my conviction, winding itself around my ribs, squeezing.
If Luca was guilty, why didn’t he come for me sooner?
Why let me run?
Why watch me for years instead of hunting me down the second I disappeared?
I press my palm to my forehead, trying to quiet the storm in my head.
I can’t think like this.
I can’t afford to.
If I start questioning my own memories, I’ll drown.
I tear my gaze from the skyline, blinking against the lights of Miami that blur into nothing. My body feels drained, my limbs heavy with exhaustion, but I know sleep won’t come easy tonight.
Not with the past clawing its way out of the grave I buried it in.
Not with Luca just down the hall.
I shudder at the thought of him. Of his hands on me last night. Of the way I let him in when I should have fought harder.
It was just sex.
Just a moment of weakness.
It doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him.
It doesn’t mean I don’t still hate him.
But God help me, I’m starting to hate myself more.
I turn away from the railing and head back inside, forcing my legs to move even as exhaustion drags at me. The mansion is eerily silent, its vast hallways stretching like tunnels, each shadow too deep, too dark.
I walk faster.
The second I step back into my room, relief washes over me.
Rafa is still asleep, curled into a ball, his tiny fingers wrapped around the edge of the blanket.
I swallow against the tightness in my throat.
I did this for him.
I ran to protect him.
I left everything behind because I thought Luca would destroy us.
And now?
I smooth a hand over Rafa’s hair, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing ground me.
Now, I don’t know if I saved him…
Or if I just delayed the inevitable.
A shiver rolls through me as I slip into bed beside him, pulling the covers up to my chin.
Tomorrow, I’ll figure out my next move.
Tomorrow, I’ll find a way to keep Luca at arm’s length.
Tomorrow, I’ll convince myself I’m still in control.
But tonight…
Tonight, I close my eyes and pray I don’t dream of the past.
Because if I do—if I see Luca’s face hovering over that dead man again—
I don’t think I’ll survive it.