One day she probably won’t remember any of this. She might not even remember me.
Motherhood is a strange thing. I’m hours from dying, and all I can think about is what life without us will do to her.
Her tiny hands cup my face, and she whispers, “Mommy, I don’t like this game anymore. I want Daddy.”
Maybe the last thing I can do for my daughter is make this separation as easy as possible. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “The game isn’t over yet, sweetheart. Tomorrow Daddy’s coming to find us.”
Her eyes glisten, and her voice brightens. “Really?”
“Really, my love. And after that, a new game begins. Uncle Fabiano will take you somewhere, and Daddy and I will have to find you. The longer it takes us to find you, the bigger your prize will be.”
Her little mind latches onto the idea of a prize, and nothing else matters. She nods excitedly, completely missing the deeper meaning behind my words.
I turn off the light, pulling the blanket over both of us. For the last time, I tell her a bedtime story.
A story about a little girl whose parents disappeared one day. But instead of mourning them, she decided to be happy—because she knew that no matter where they were, they were always watching over her. They always lived in her heart.
If she was happy, they were happy too. If she was sad, they were with her in her sorrow.
They were always with her.
***
We wait just outside the iron gates. Carlo stands right behind me in a tight black t-shirt and dark jeans. Nearly a hundred armed men surround us. The air feels thick enough to choke on.
Antonia presses herself against my leg, overwhelmed by the wall of stone-faced, hulking men.
In the distance, I see a car approaching, weaving between the towering pines lining the road.
I press Antonia’s head against my leg, shielding her from whatever is about to unfold, and turn to Carlo.
My voice trembles with the weight of unspoken fear, my throat tight with unshed tears.
“Carlo…please. Let us go.”
A smirk tugs at his lips, his tone laced with mockery.
“And why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because you’re better than this.”
Maxim pulls his gun from his shoulder holster, smirking. “No, lady. He really isn’t.”
I ignore him and push forward.
“You’re not the same man I ran from, Carlo. Emily and Gabriel changed you. They made you better. I know that terrifies you, but it’s true.”
He takes one slow step toward me. His voice is just as hard as the rest of him.
“Don’t say my wife’s or my kid’s names with that filthy mouth. Yeah, maybe I’m better for them. But for the bitch who humiliated me?” His eyes narrow. “Just wait. You’re about to meet the man who’s gonna make you regret every fucking thing you did.”
“You owe me.”
His brows pull together in irritation. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“He was right, Carlo. Every single word Tony said. I was your wife. Your responsibility. But to you I was invisible. A ghost. I got raped on our wedding night and you didn’t even notice.”
His jaw clenches so hard I hear his teeth grind. “Because you never opened your fucking mouth to tell me. Maybe you even wanted it, maybe you wanted the man who was supposed to be your husband before me to break you in.”
