“But your father and I fought hard to get you back.” She grabs my hand, gently caressing it. “And I’m so glad you’re back where you belong now.”
I slowly retract my hand from hers. “But you … never told me about my real father. Igor.”
Her brow rises. “Igor. So Marcello told you?”
Rage bubbles to the surface. “You knew, and you never told me. Don’t you think you should have?”
Her eyes suddenly turn icy. “That grimy schmuck didn’t deserve you.” Her voice is much raspier, just like her face has gone stone-cold. “Ripping your tiny little body from his wife’s dead fingers was the best revenge I could ever dream of.”
My eyes widen as I lean back on the couch, completely shocked at her viciousness.
“He killed my daughter, Alannah,” she says.
Alannah. Marcello’s fiancée.
It’s all connected.
“So you replaced her with me,” I mutter.
She nods unapologetically. “And I don’t regret a single second of my decision.” There’s that same dark smile again. “Because you’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman. My only daughter.”
When she reaches for my face, I lean back even more. “Don’t.”
Her face tightens again, and she grinds her teeth. “Tell me what happened to your father.”
“You mean Frank?” I say.
A father would never do what he did to his kid.
Her eyes narrow. “He is the man who raised you.”
“The man who used me to get revenge on someone else. The man who stole me away from my real father,” I spit back. “And I don’t know what happened to him.” I swallow. “After we landed in the water, he …”
I can’t even finish my sentence because I know what I did to him.
I still can’t face the reality that I’m responsible for his death. And that I chose to wrap my arms around his neck.
But it was the only way to get out of there, to make him stop.
“Vanished,” she finishes for me, and she sighs, tearing away her gaze. “I know. Our divers have been looking for him. I just wish you knew a bit more. I don’t want to give up.” She looks down at her trembling hands. It’s the first time since I came here that I’ve seen an inkling of the woman she used to be, the way I remembered her.
“I’m sorry …” I mutter. I know how she feels. I’m torn too because he still raised me, despite the fact that I hate him for doing what he did to my real father and to me.
She sighs again. “I just hope we’ll be able to find him.” She looks up at me. “It doesn’t matter what he did to you. He is still your father. And he wants you back.”
My fingers dig into my pants as I clutch my knees. “I …” I don’t even know how to respond to that.
“But let’s get you changed first,” she says, a smile forming on her lips. “You smell like you’ve been out on the street for a while now.”
An awkward laugh leaves my mouth. “Is it that bad?”
“I don’t want my daughter to have to go through that,” she says, and she gets up from the couch. “So let’s get you into some fresh clothes. I have a whole spare room at the top of the stairs set up just for you.”
Before I can say another word, she’s already grabbed my arm and hauled me up from the couch. “Come.”
Even though she is my mother, her grip is anything but gentle, and I’m struck by how it overwhelms me. Memories of the past collide with what’s happening. The mother I once knew is gone right before my very eyes. Even though she looks like her, she’s nothing like the mother I once knew.
And I must remember that as she drags me up the stairs. “That Marcello really did a number on you, didn’t he? Making you hide out in such a filthy old house,” she growls. “I’ll help you. First, we’ll draw a bath, then you’ll get some fresh clothes and a nice bed to sleep in.”
“He didn’t—”
I stop myself before I go too far. It just occurred to me that spilling information about Marcello might not be the smartest move. After all, I’m sure he’s looking for me right as we speak, and even though I hate that he never told me the truth … I don’t want to risk him getting caught.
“Hmm?” My mother pauses at the top of the stairs and throws me a glance.
“Nothing,” I mutter, and I look away.
“Well, just let me know when you change your mind,” she says, smiling. “You can tell me anything. After all, you are still my daughter, and I love you.”
Those words should fill me with warmth, but right now, all I feel is dread. And I gulp as she grabs my hand and guides me along into a room in the back.
Guards are literally everywhere—around every corner and next to every door—and it creeps me out.
“Here it is. Your new room,” Molly says, opening the door.
It’s gigantic. Well, at least compared to what I used to live in, way back before I landed into Marcello’s clutches.
The king bed in the middle of the room faces the big windows in the back, and a velvety black couch sits to the side. One door leads into an open closet, and another one has a lock on it, which I presume is the bathroom.
She quickly walks inside and opens the door, which indeed leads into a bathroom with marble tiles and a big tub in the back. She turns on the faucet and grabs a few towels.
“Normally, I’d let the maids do this, but I wanted to personally welcome you,” she says. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you that I don’t want to share that with anyone else.”
The gentle smile on her face makes me relax a little.
Maybe she isn’t as bad as I thought. Maybe my own experience with mobsters and fears of what could happen have clouded my judgment.
I enter the bathroom as she walks back out again and opens the closet to grab a few new clothes, placing them on the bed. “You can wear this. It should fit you perfectly.” She sounds so happy when she’s doing all this. Like she’s been waiting for so long. But it feels more like I’m some kind of pet, a plaything, than a real daughter.
While the water is still pouring into the bath, I look around the room and touch the expensive fabrics of the clothes she picked out for me. It’s so much more than I’d ever be able to afford. And the dump I’ve been living in really doesn’t make it easy to deny all this wealth and comfort that she so gleefully wishes to grant me.
Could I even say no if I wanted to?
My eyes draw up to the windows, and I notice the cameras hanging behind the curtains. My heart skips a beat. Panic swells inside as I check the other corners and find cameras there as well.
This isn’t just a room.
It’s a prison.
“I’ll leave you to relax a little. We’ll talk again later.”
I spin on my heels. She’s already gone before I can say another word.
And the door is locked behind her.
My eyes widen, and I quickly run to the door, fumbling the handle, but it’s no use. “Wait!” I call out.
“Just get some sleep, honey!” my mom yells back, but I can hear her footsteps as they move away from the door.