"She’s fine. Anthony and Vicky have always been close. They're more like friends than siblings. He doesn't feel the amount of responsibility that William and I do for protecting our baby sister, so he's not burdened by what needs to be done in order to keep her safe. It worried me that Anthony would be critical of my decision to send Vicky to our family in Italy. But it seems you provided quite the distraction for my brother."
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked. "What do you want with me?"
"I haven't quite decided what I want with you. At first, I wanted to kill you for being a rat. Then, I wanted to punish William for keeping you a secret. I like to know everyone involved in my family's business. It was a slap in the face to know that you've been sniffing around for the past three years right under my nose." His voice dripped with venom, and I imagined his cruel face twisted in anger. He continued as I used my free hand to clutch my chest. "Today, I saw how useful you can be. It's obvious William wants you, and I like having leverage. You want to take care of your grandmother, and I can help you with that. You're in deep. If I wanted to blackmail you, I could simply use the murder you committed today, but I don't think it hits as hard as I'd like it to. You'd help me out of obligation but not because you want to. I like my toys to be motivated. I'm going to provide your grandmother the best care money can buy, and in exchange, you're going to be whatever I need you to be."
I sat down on my lumpy mattress, then let the numbness slip away and mold into helplessness. "What exactly do you need from me?" I asked, shocked that once again I was considering an ultimatum from Nicholas, or Malice as he wanted me to call him.
"I need lots of things. One day, I could call and say I need you to burn down a building. The next, I could need you in an evening gown and on my arm at an event. I could need you to keep Vicky obedient. I could need you to hurt my brother. Sometimes, you'll know why you're somewhere. Sometimes you won't. You'll be my little pet, showing up whenever and however I need you to."
I gulped. I didn't want to be under Nicholas's control. I didn't trust him, and the more he pulled me into his web, the harder it would be to escape alive. But I was already trapped. I'd killed a man today. I'd disposed of his body. I'd done something unbelievably horrific—something that would stick with me until I took my last breath. "And if I don't?"
Then he let out an exhale, and I could hear him lean back in his chair as he considered all the ways he could ruin me if I did not cooperate. "Juliet, please don't make me insult your intelligence by spelling out how you have no other choice. If you go against me, you'll end up in prison for murder. If you cooperate, every single problem you've ever had will disappear." He was lying. Nicholas Civella would become my problem. He'd create a storm of issues for me. "I put the information for your grandmother's doctor's appointment in your phone. Go to it tomorrow. See what he has to offer. I think you'll like him. Afterward, I want you to come to the address I just sent you. You only saw Anthony’s death dungeon, but you might like the mansion." My phone pinged, and I shivered. "I've got a job for you."
He knew he had me in his clutches.
I swallowed down my anxiety and tried to stay calm. But my throat had closed up. My anxiety was so bad I couldn't force my words past my teeth. Everything that had happened finally hit that sweet crescendo of terror, and I was helpless to stop it. "See you tomorrow, Juliet," he whispered before hanging up the phone.
6
Grams and I enjoyed going to Penn Valley Park together. A small park with a great view of downtown, it was a special place for the two of us. We used to walk laps here all the time when I was a kid. Penn Valley had a small pond and an overpopulation of aggressive ducks. Grams and I would save up our stale bread and feed them from her favorite bench.
It was a warm summer day. My eyes itched from the pollen in the air, and I rolled my shoulders, reveling in the heat of the sun beating down on my bare skin. Grams was wearing a pair of jeans and her favorite shirt—with a picture that said "My Grandkid Thinks I’m Cool."
She held my arm as we went along the trail, the hot air wrapping itself around us. The doctor we'd met with earlier today said that regular exercise can help slow down the Parkinson’s destroying her nervous system. He recommended getting a stationary bike because the motion can help ease the motor complications she was experiencing. I made a mental note to check my local Goodwill to see if they had one for sale. Buying one new right now wasn’t an option.
"Is this really necessary?" Grams asked while looking down at our linked arms. I didn't want her to fall on the hard concrete.
"What? Do I stink or something?" I teased, knowing that she was a strong, independent woman, and feeling frail was a shot to her sensitive ego. I couldn’t help it. Grams was all I had, and I was the equivalent of a helicopter mom where she was concerned.
"I just think it's a bit much. I'm more than capable of walking this trail. Back when you were a toddler, I used to carry your ass to the car when you were too tired to walk, you know. I could probably jog circles around you." She used her free hand to wave in frustration. She wasn’t wrong, back in the day, Grams would jog circles around me. She was fit and healthy. I remember almost laughing at the doctor when we got the diagnosis. It seemed impossible that such a strong woman would have this happen to her. It wasn’t fair. "I can also still swat your ass for being a brat," she added.
Grams started laughing at her own joke, but I rolled my eyes. She was having a good day, and it was such a pleasure to see her in good humor.
Our doctor's appointment went as Malice demanded. I had to lie every step of the way. I explained that Grams qualified for a charity study I applied for. It was hard to come up with an explanation on the spot, but I told her a last-minute spot opened up and it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. She wanted more details but was stunned into silence when we arrived at the luxurious office. We didn’t have to sit by someone coughing and sneezing. We didn’t have to wait to see the doctor. They even offered us lemonade. Lemonade! It was a wonderful experience, and I learned about some different treatment options available to improve Grams’s quality of life.
In addition, I was given a six-month supply of an experimental drug. I couldn’t imagine how much it actually cost, and the three large pill bottles weighed my purse down. Dr. Hoffstead insisted that I take it with me, and as I was leaving, he pulled me aside and begged me to tell Nicholas Civella that I was well provided for.
"Anything you want, I’ll give you. Here’s my cell. Call anytime. Just please tell him I’m doing what he asked. Please."
Seeing the fear on this grown man’s face made me wildly uncomfortable. Malice and his crew were capable of committing some of the foulest acts imaginable, and I was familiar with the terror Dr. Hoffstead felt deep in his soul.
"I can’t believe how long the trail is." Grams sighed as we walked down the path. I looked down and noticed that she was dragging her right foot. Pretending to be tired, I led us to a wooden bench overlooking the park’s water fountain. "I need a break," I lied when she arched her brow at me.