I swallow the thick air, my chest tightening as pictures of a young Angelos fill the screen. My boy. Bile claws up my throat. They’re photos I recognise. Family photographs I took, the last one of him and Magnus before he went to prison. He was never a good father, but he never laid a hand on him and I’m grateful for that, at least. Angelos always idolised him, like a little puppy dog, just following him around for the tiniest scrap of affection, never understanding his dad would always leave him hungry for more.
The edges of my vision blur with panic, the screen trembling in my grasp. This isn’t a suspicion anymore. This is proof. Proof that the man sleeping soundly in my bed has been tracking me. Using me. Again.
My throat closes up, making it difficult to breathe.
I glance back at Dan asleep on the bed, peaceful in his lies. His betrayal squeezes my heart. My lungs feel starved for air, like I’m drowning on dry land.
Maybe he can explain, my heart whispers, clinging to hope like a fool. Just like I did all those years ago. But my head screams louder. I won’t be that silly girlagain.
I stood up for him tonight. I let him into my home, my bed, my life. And he’s been lying to me, every step of the way.
I defended him before, thirteen and a half years ago. I kept thinking there was a mistake, that he hadn’t just slept with me to get to my father, to pull the trigger, then disappear like I never mattered.
My brother’s words ring loud and clear, like an alarm bell buzzing in my head.Are you completely stupid? Look at you, Rose. Why would a man like him date a girl like you?
I don’t know what’s real anymore. He never came back for me, never even answered my letters. And he’s already confirmed everything—so why I gave him the benefit of the doubt this time around, I’ll never know.
A broken sob catches in my throat, but I smother it. I can’t wake him. I can’t let him see me fall apart. Not now. Not when I know the truth. The man I trusted with my heart, and my son, is the very same man who could destroy us.
I swallow down the panic clawing at my throat and slip the phone back onto the bedside table, my hands trembling.
I can't stay here. Not another second.
Quiet as a shadow, I book an Uber, and gather what I need. Angelos’ bag by the door, my purse, the spare house keys. I nudge Angelos awake, my heart twisting at the confusion in his sleep-heavy eyes.
"Come on, sweetheart," I whisper. "We have to go."
His eyes flutter open, fear creeping in. But he doesn't ask questions. He knows this drill.
This isn’t our first escape. We fled in the middle of the night before, when he was five—after Magnus’s incarceration, after I realised I was still a prisoner in that house. Not even all that wealth and luxury could keep me there, not with his men eyeing me every five minutes as if I were just another possession.
My son wasn’t going to be raised by gangsters.
Minutes later, we slip out into the night, the door softly closing behind us like the final seal on my heart.
Sir-Pounce-A-Lot is nowhere to be seen, but I know Mrs. Aranda will take care of him.
“Where are we going?” Angelos asks, rubbing his eyes in the back of the taxi.
“Helena’s.” My voice cracks, my throat dry as dust. “Then I’ll think about what to do next.” The sun paints the horizon in a red hue like a warning beacon. A magpie flies in front of the car, and I remind myself it’s not a bad omen, just a bird foraging for food. Not a sign. Not a sign.
“Is this because of Dad?” He stares out the window, the veil of darkness lifting from the trees in the distance.
“Why would it be about Dad?”
“Because he said you might try to run from him.”
My head whips to the side, cold dread seeps through my ribs. “When did he say that?”
“He came to see me. Why didn’t you tell me he was out of prison?”
The words slam into my chest like a brick. My breath catches, my pulse roaring in my ears. “When?”
“After my birthday.”
“What else did he say?”
“He said that Dan will try to poison you against him. That Dan’s trying to break our family up.”
