Chapter 1
By the time I pulledinto the elementary school parking lot, the sun was already sinking low.I killed the engine and sat there for a moment longer than necessary, my hands resting on the steering wheel as if I needed permission to move.
Two weeks.
That was how long it had been since everything ended—and everything broke.
The money laundering was gone.
The Vincenzos were gone.
The debt, the fear, the constant vigilance, had all vanished like a bad dream you wake up sweating from.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as I scanned the crowded lot, already full of minivans and SUVs plastered with PTA stickers and stick-figure families.Normal life.The kind I was supposed to be grateful for.
Instead, all I felt was the quiet absence of a man who had once been everywhere.Every mile marker felt like a reminder of how far I’d come...and how much I’d lost.Two weeks of safety had done nothing to quiet the ache.
I’d survived.
Unwound.
But Creed?
Creed had disappeared just as cleanly.
No calls.No texts.No chance to explain that fear had made me reckless.That love had made me stupid.That I had trusted survival more than him.
The threats were gone.The shadows had retreated.My life—on paper—had returned to something resembling normal.Morning traffic.Calendar reminders.Coffee was cooling untouched on my desk.
And yet, every day felt heavier than the one before it.
Because safety without Creed felt like punishment.
I grabbed my coat and hurried inside, the sound of children’s voices echoing down the hallway.The auditorium doors were already open, parents shuffling in, the scent of popcorn and construction paper thick in the air.A volunteer pressed a folded program into my hand as I slipped inside, the lights dimming just as I walked down the aisle.
Inside the auditorium, the air buzzed with the sweet chaos of parents settling in, phones raised, programs rustling.Aunt Ruth had insisted she’d handle the costumes, arriving early with the girls so I could finish up at work.I spotted her a few rows ahead, her silver hair catching the glow of the stage lights as she turned and smiled at me, lifting a hand in a small wave.
“They’re ready,” she mouthed as I plopped down onto the chair beside her.
My chest loosened just a little.
The curtain twitched.Music crackled to life.The children waddled onto the stage, and my heart cracked open.And then—
Two pumpkins bounced into view, round and bright, green felt leaves wobbling above their heads.Their faces were painted with crooked smiles, their little arms sticking out from the sides as they swayed to the music, proudly offbeat.I shared a look with Aunt Ruth and smiled too hard, the moment stretching just a little too thin, as if happiness had a shelf life and mine was about to expire.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, laughter and tears tangling in my throat.
Safe.Happy.Unaware of how close their world had come to shattering.
Their small arms stuck out awkwardly from their sides as they sang, wildly off-key and completely fearless.I laughed softly, pressing my lips together to keep the sound in.They looked ridiculous.Perfect.For a moment, I forgot everything else.
And then I heard it.
A low, familiar laugh—quiet, unguarded, unmistakable.The sound cut through the room, low and intimate, and my chest reacted before my mind did.
I hadn’t heard that sound in weeks.Not since before everything fell apart.
I turned slowly, afraid that if I moved too fast, the moment would vanish.
