Enzo’s silence is a blade, sharp enough to keep me frozen where I sit. His fingers stay steepled, posture relaxed, but the weight of him is crushing. When he finally speaks, his voice is even, calm, and measured, like he’s already calculated every consequence and every outcome.
“I already have the details worked out,” he says. “All I need is your approval, and the plans move forward. But understand this, Stella—with that approval, you bind yourself to your father’s role in this family. The cleaner.”
My breath catches. “What is that exactly?”
His gaze doesn’t waver, his tone colder than steel. “From time to time, there will be deliveries. Things that need to disappear. No names, no questions. Just… poof.” He makes a small gesture with his hand, like scattering ash. “Up in smoke. Never to be heard of again.”
The words hang in the air like smoke itself, heavy and suffocating. I turn my head toward Elaine. She meets my eyes, and for a moment, the whole world narrows to just us. No words pass between us—we don’t need them. Her steady gaze tells me what I already know: she’s with me, no matter how far this goes.
I straighten in my chair, forcing my voice to be steady. “Okay, Enzo. What’s the plan?”
His eyes sharpen, a dangerous glint cutting through the calm. “Is that your approval,Stellina? I need to know we’re not just family sitting at this table. I need to know we’re partners in business.”
My lungs ache with the breath I drag in, my chest tight as I exhale. “Yes. You have my approval.”
Enzo leans back, studying me like I’ve just stepped onto a chessboard I don’t fully understand. Then he gives a single, sharp nod. “Okay. Meet me here tomorrow morning, same time. We’ll finish this conversation then.”
The finality in his tone leaves no room for argument. He stands from his chair and walks out of the room, never looking back.
Elaine and I stand in silence. I lace my fingers with hers, and she gives me a reassuring squeeze. No words are spoken as we exit the building. The car ride home is quiet, just the hum of the road filling the air.
When we step through my front door, raised voices cut through the stillness. Ansel is in the kitchen, mid-argument with Theo.
“You can’t always try to psychoanalyze me, Ansel!” Theo snaps, sharp and defensive.
Ansel crosses her arms, calm as ever. “I’m not psychoanalyzing you, Theo. I’m just saying maybe your mother leaving you did more damage than you think.”
Theo mutters a curse and storms out, the slam of the front door shaking the frame.
Ansel saunters into the living room, collapses into the loveseat, and tips her head back with a groan. “Just because I have a psychology degree doesn’t mean I’m trying to be someone’s fucking therapist.” She pops back up, eyes flicking to Elaine and me. “Fuck it. I need tequila. You coming?”
Elaine and I exchange a look. My lips twitch into the ghost of a smile.“Fuck it,” I say. “Let’s get drunk before noon.”
Ansel is already pouring when we step into the kitchen, the bottle of Patrón standing proud on the counter like a trophy.
“Finally,” she says. “The mood in this house is heavier than my student loan debt. Shots. Now.”
Elaine arches a brow but slides onto a stool, pulling me down next to her. “Is this a ritual for you?”
“Yes,” Ansel deadpans, pushing three glasses across. “It’s called coping.”
We clink. We drink. The burn loosens something tight in my chest.Ansel is quick with the refill. “Round two. But this time—confessions. No excuses, no take-backs.”
Elaine’s thumb strokes over my knuckles where our hands are tangled on the counter. Her lips curve into a smirk. “Confession? I’m totally, hopelessly obsessed with your best friend.”
Heat floods my face, tequila and want tangling.
Ansel barks a laugh. “Oh, please. That’s the least shocking thing I’ve ever heard. You two aredisgustinglyin love, and if I have to watch one more longing stare, I’m staging either an intervention or a porno. Haven’t decided yet.”
Elaine laughs, unbothered. I shove Ansel lightly. “We arenotdisgustingly in love.” “Yes, you are.” She downs her shot, grinning wickedly. “And I support it. Fully. I mean, I’m still gonna roast you for it, but I support it.”
Elaine leans in, her lips brushing my ear. “Let her tease. I like it when they notice.” The shiver it sends through me has nothing to do with tequila.
Ansel slams the bottle down. “My turn. Confession: once I dumped a guy because he ate string cheese sideways. Like a psychopath.”
I burst out laughing, nearly spilling my drink. Elaine shakes her head, grinning. “That might be the most valid reason I’ve ever heard.”
The tequila keeps flowing. The confessions get sillier, softer, and closer to truths we don’t want to name. At some point, Ansel is sprawled across the counter, declaring herselfthe chaos glueof our friend group, while Elaine kisses the inside of my wrist like no one else is in the room.
