My father had gleefully told me only two days after my lavish party, savoring every moment of sharing the gruesome details before falling into a bitter rage. I’d never seen him so angry, exacting revenge on everyone he’d thought had played a part in the man’s escape. He’d turned over the estate, punishing soldiers and threatening others with life and limb.
Including me.
Why was I thinking about the punishment I’d received three years later? Maybe I was using the horrible memories, theterrible first year and the extreme heartache as a reminder that I was a survivor. Stronger than I’d ever been in my life.
This was my chance, my dream and I was so close. One more year and I’d graduate. One more year and I could finally live out my dream. If I played my cards right, the United States would become my home. A little home filled with love and laughter. I would make certain of that.
I couldn’t wait.
The thought of returning home for a short visit made me cringe, but my mother was ill, begging to see me. If I knew my father, he was allowing one wish. That’s how much he hated me, which was fine by me. There was nothing the bastard could do that would make me feel any worse. I hated him too, now wishing I’d begged Kazimir to kill him.
I was leaving in three days for Sicily and my stomach was already in knots. Up until now, I’d been unwanted, my father treating me as if I didn’t exist.
After he’d banished me with five hundred euros in my pocket and a single suitcase of clothes, I’d been forced to find both shelter and a job. Thankfully, I’d found both.
Including finding a way back to the very school I’d been forced to drop out of. Today, I felt vindicated for all my suffering and hard work.
Given I was sullied goods, my worth had dropped significantly. At least that had taken me off the radar. Also to my benefit.
If my father thought I cared, he was dead wrong. I was exactly where I wanted to be and it didn’t seem anyone cared whatsoever who my father had once been. From what mymother had told me, the last few years had taken a toll and he’d aged significantly, arthritis crippling his fingers.
Sadly, his mind was sharp, his level of brutality intact.
I was still on the fence about going home, even for a short visit. Why bother? Why had my mother suddenly acted as if she cared about me?
“Hurry. The clock is ticking!” The voice was loud enough to cut through the crackles of laughter and exclamations of worry. From what I’d heard, the show had been sold out. There were members of the Parisian press waiting in the audience as well as other international agencies eager to report on the up-and-coming talent coming from Paris.
My heart was skipping beats as I hurried along, avoiding using the finger still bearing a single drop of blood.
Blood. Crimson in color, once my favorite hue. Until the substance had marred his back, festering in the scars that would remain long after his wounds had healed. The unmistakable, repulsive stench would forever cling to my nostrils.
The same substance had splattered my face after being forced to watch the horrific execution of a worker who’d dared provide information to a prisoner of war.
That’s what my father had called it. He’d stated we were at war.
Jesus.
“Miss Marichetti. Are you alright?” Fleur had been assisting me for days, the older woman having been through countless shows and having dealt with hundreds of prima donnas over the years.
“I’m fine, just anxious.”
“Your design is beautiful, but you should be wearing it.”
A laugh bubbled to the surface. “I don’t think so. I’d fall on my face.”
She touched my arm. “Nonsense. Let me know if I can help in any way.”
“I will.” I took a deep breath after she moved away, finally standing. “Turn around,” I told the girl. “Valerie. Right?”
Valerie was several shades of green but managed to nod. She was one of the crop of teenagers arriving from America, all hopeful of jumpstarting their modeling career. I could tell many had been lured into nights of drugs, alcohol, and debauchery.
Sighing, I made a few additional adjustments, taking just a few seconds to glance at those around me. In my mind, my design sucked.
Just then, my fur baby bumped her head against my leg, a needed reminder she was right there with me. My only source of comfort and the only creature I could count on. While taking a long, deep breath, I stroked the fur on the back of her neck. Within seconds, I was much calmer.
My sweet girl always knew what I needed.
Every student in the class had been allowed to select one piece of fall clothing for the spring fashion show highlighting the upcoming fall line. I was so excited I felt as if I was floating on cloud nine.
