This is killing me<b>. </b>I’m going to die here and now. All <b>I </b>can <b>see </b>when I look at them is their son on <b>top </b><b>of </b>me, holding <b>me </b><b>down </b>on the bed, the <b>crazy </b>look in his eyes, and all the insane things he was saying. About how we were meant to <b>be</b><b>, </b>about how Gianni ruined me.
Before he held a knife to your throat. He was going to rape you. He could have killed you.
<b>I </b><b>need </b>to remember that before I break down in front of these poor people and tell them everything their son did. <b>Hell</b><b>, </b><b>it’s </b>not like it would help them. Finding out their son went insane before he died.
“Here. Let’s sit you down.” In the back of my mind, it urs to me that Dad now has a reason to take care of me. And I let him do it without question, my head spinning, my stomach tightening to the point of pain. I think I’m going to vomit.
“We’re sorry toe in and announce it this way,” Josh says.
“Do you two need to sit down? Sarah, can I get you some water?”
Sarah scowls despite Dad’s kindness. “What I need is to know what happened to my boy. <b>He </b>did not kill himself. That is not something Luciano would do. I’m his mother! I know my son!”
Do you? No matter how much I want to, I would never say that out loud. It’s not her fault what happened to him. But I have to wonder if either had the first idea of what he was going through. They couldn’t possibly, or else they might have been able to help him.
“Exactly what happened?” Dad asks Josh. “What were the circumstances?”
<b>“</b>I found him at our cabin.” He’s struggling to keep himself in check, his voice shaking. God, Luciano looked just like him. I want to look away and close my eyes so I don’t have to stare at him anymore, but I must resist the impulse. It’s clear from the way Dad rubs my back that my reaction–silence, shock–is convincing. I don’t want to blow this. The baby. Gianni. My own life. Everything hinges on this.
He found his son at the cabin. His own father found him.
“He would not have shot himself. Never!” Sarah insists. “You know that, right?” she asks me, eyes darting over my face, desperation heavy in her voice. Like she needs me to agree. Like it’s the most crucial thing in the world that I agree with her.
“I… I really don’t know,” I whisper, looking to Dad for help. Never once did I think to prepare myself for this.
“To be fair,” Dad murmurs, speaking slowly, “the two of them broke up weeks ago. There was no reason for Caterina to know his mental state.” I nod, so grateful that he’s here. “But he dide here in hopes I would convince Caterina to… I’m not sure what. Take him back, maybe?”
“How did he look?” Sarah asks, breathless.
“Like himself. He seemed fine–I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.
“Our son was not suicidal,” Sarah insists.
“He did seem distraught,” Dad points out in that same low, slow voice. I wonder how many victims and families <b>he’s </b>had to talk to over the years, using that same calm, measured tone. “Though I know that doesn’t give you any peace<b>. </b>I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could say to take this pain away from you.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry this happened.‘
”
“Well,” Sarah barks, running her fists under heroes to catch her tears, “maybe if he didn’t feel abandoned, this.uldn’t <b>have </b>
happened.”
“Sarah,” Josh whispers. “Don’t do that.”
“I’m just saying. If he was distraught, we all know why.”
Maybe I <b>should </b>be d she’s not t–out using me of putting the gun to his head, but she might as well be. All I <b>can </b><b>do </b><b>is </b><b>reel </b><b>in </b><b>horror </b>with my tongue too tied to speak.
<b>“</b><b>Now</b><b>, </b>wait just a second.” Dad holds up <b>his </b>hands, his features hardening. “This <b>is </b>a terrible tragedy, and truly<b>, </b>you have <b>my </b><b>deepest </b>sympathy. I <b>can’t </b>imagine what you’re feeling at this moment, but to st
stand here and imply Caterina <b>was </b>at fault for ending the rtionship <b>is </b>cruel and unfair.”
<b>“</b><b>That’s </b>not what we think,” Josh insists.
“Don’t speak for me,” Sarah whispers. <b>“</b>He started going downhill after the breakup. He stopped going to work. He <b>was </b>supposed to take over the gym<b>, </b>and he lost interest. Don’t tell me it was only a coincidence.”
“Sarah, breakups happen all the time,” Dad reminds her. He’s not so gentle anymore. His tone has a firmness<b>, </b><b>a </bmand I haven’t heard in ages. “You’re not the first grieving parent to want toy me for what happened to their child on someone else. Nevertheless, it’s unfair to hold Caterina responsible. Breakups happen.”
“Honey, we should go. I’m… not even sure why we came,” Josh murmurs. “We were just hoping, I don’t know, that you could tell us something.”
I can’t hold back the tears anymore. They run down my cheeks and clog my throat until all I can do is shake my head at first. “ No,” I choke out. “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t want… I mean, I would never…”
“It’s alright,” Dad whispers<b>, </b>stroking my hair before turning back to them. “I’m sorry, but there is nothing we can do to help. Truly, I wish there was.”
“Can you investigate?” Sarah asks. The hope in that question sends fresh tears rolling down, dripping off my chin faster than I can catch them.
“I’ve taken a leave of absence,” Dad exins. “However, <b>I </b>can make some phone calls. I want to manage your expectations, though. If the ruling was suicide, I’m not sure what else can be done<b>.</b><b>” </b>
It’s just like with Mom. Only this time<b>, </b>I’m the one who knows the truth, and I’m the one trying to gaslight this poor couple into believing the story Roger and Gianni came up with. How can I sit here, knowing the truth, knowing what happens when the truth is concealed, and pretend? It would kill Dad if he knew I’m sitting here, watching them suffer, when I know everything. He’d never look at me the same way again.
“Let’s go,” Josh whispers to Sarah, stroking her matted brown hair before steering her out the door. He looks back at me onest time while his wife sobs quietly and mouths the words I’m sorry.
Right, because I’m the one who deserves an apology. Because I’m the one who’s truly been hurt. What happens if she never gets over this? I’ll carry the guilt of what happened that night on my chest for the rest of my life.
Dad closes, then locks the door behind them before scrubbing his hands through his hair with a sigh. “What a terrible thing to happen. In any case, please don’t for one second believe any of this was your fault.”
Nodding, I brush thest of my tears away. “I know. I couldn’t control the things he did when we were together, much less…” I can’t find the words to finish the sentence.
Never in my life have I wished so much that <b>I </b>could tell the truth. The whole truth<b>, </b>too. Like the way Luciano tried to kill me with his car. The way he kidnapped me and tried to force himself on me. How he fell apart.
And the reason why he did.
“I think I need to go upstairs and lie down for a minute,” I whisper standing and steadying myself.
“Sure, of course, you do that. I’ll clean up the kitchen. And if you need anything, just yell for me.<b>” </b>I nod silently, then climb the stairs slowly. Those poor people. None of this was their fault. They didn’t have the first clue what was happening with <b>their </b>son. I am not even sure they could have helped him if they tried.
Once I’m sure Dad is still in the kitchen, making noise as he washes up the pots and pans, <b>I </b>close the bedroom door and pull out my phone. I need support, stability. I need to know everything is going to be okay, even if it feels like it won’t be.
Gianni answers on the first ring. “<b>Hey</b><b>, </b>there.” He sounds happy but tired. It jumps out at me no matter how he tries to hide it.
And here I am, about to heap more steaming shit on him. “We just had a visitor.”
“Exin.” His tone is serious.
A minuteter, he knows the whole story, and I’m left breathless and trembling. “What should I do? Do you think they’ll make a big deal about it and try to start an investigation?”
“You have nothing to worry about,” he assures me. “There’s no chance of any of it being traced back to you.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about. What about you? Are you safe?‘
“Absolutely. There’s no reason for anything to be linked to any of us. You have nothing to worry about.”
<b>“</b>I have everything to worry about.” The memory of Sarah’s weeping and Josh’s anguish brings tears to my eyes all over again. They did nothing to deserve this, but I sat there and pretended and only added to their pain. “I’m worried about the person this makes me. I looked those people in the eye and told them I had no idea what had happened. Lied right to their faces.”
“Which is a lot easier for them to deal with, I’m sure, than what truly happened. Would it do them any favors if they knew the truth?” His smooth<b>, </b>confident voice is like a soothing balm that eases my pain.
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“There you go. If anything, you’re doing them a favor by letting them believe their son killed himself. He’ll be their tragic little boy who lost his way instead of a man who tried to run you down<b>, </b>kidnapped you, and—”
“I know.” I can’t bear to hear the rest. Doubt he wants to say it all out loud, anyway.
Sinking onto the bed, I scrape together the courage to confess what’s weighing heaviest on my heart. “There’s more. We both know who’s really responsible for this. I know Luciano made his own choices, but he didn’te up with all of this off the top of his head.”
He snarls like I knew he would. “Amalia.”
“What if she isn’t satisfied?” I can see her in front of me, dressed to the nines like she was at the clinic. “I’m sure she still has it out for me.” I’m absolutely certain of it, in fact.
Especially now, since she deduced I’m pregnant. No, I didn’t confirm or deny it, but I don’t think that matters.
“I’m not going to pretend you don’t have a point. She could very well decide to try again. All she wants is to make me suffer.” “I don’t feel safe,” I confess, rubbing my stomach. I don’t feel like either of us is safe.
“Thene home. Let me take care of you here. There’s no way she can touch you while you’re here, under my protection. She wouldn’t dare.”
He’s both right and wrong. No, she couldn’t physically hurt me, but she could show up again and raise hell.
Even with that knowledge, my body rxes as soon as I hear the magic spell that his words weave. The tension that’s almost locked my muscles in ce drains away. My reservations about Dad’s reaction drain away, too. This isn’t about me, and it’s not about him. My baby needs protection. It’s like everything’sing into focus now.
That focus is what helps me get my things together before venturing downstairs, where Dad is finishing up in the kitchen. It makes it possible to stand straight and tall while he gapes at me in shock.
“You’re going where?” He’s <b>so </b>stunned, he didn’t drop the sponge in the sink. Now he’s dripping dirty water <b>all </b>over the floor, clutching it in his tightening fist.
‘Be careful,” I sigh, grabbing paper towels. “You’ll slip and hurt yourself.”
“Stop babying me.” He snatches the <i>paper </i>towels from me and drops them on the floor. “Why are you going to Gianni?”
“That’s just where I want to be right now.”
Because of course, I can’t give him any specifics. I can’t tell him about Amalia. He could end up getting himself hurt by putting himself in her crosshairs. It doesn’t matter that he’s a skilled detective who has dealt with people like her for years. I don’t want to take any chances. Nothing stops her from hurting other people, specifically if it puts her ahead.
That’s not the only reason; telling him about her would mean spilling all the beans. I can’t do that. For so many reasons.
“Dad, please. It has nothing to do with you. I just really want to be there. <b>I’ll </b>be fine. And it won’t be forever–somebody has toe around and make sure you’ve eaten.”
He tosses the sponge into the sink, muttering obscenities under his breath. “I don’t like you leaving after you heard news like you just did. Is this about Luciano?”
“No, it’s not.” Not the way he thinks, at least. “I’m going to be fine. Gianni’s going to take care of me.”
He turns his back to me, but my hand on his shoulder turns him around again. His eyes are getting red, and the tremor in his chin reveals the emotion he’s failing to hold back. “And you know what else? He’s trying to help us find out what happened to Mom. He really is. Because he knows it’s what I want. We have to trust him, Dad. I need you to trust him. Can you at least try, for me?”
He barks out a sharpugh. “You realize what you’re asking?”
“All’m asking you to do is let go of what you thought you knew. That’s it.‘
Gripping the edge of the sink with both hands, he releases a pained groan. <b>“</b><b>If </b>only it were that simple.”
“I understand, but I believe you can do it, especially when you remind yourself that this is what I want.”
I hate the way he lowers his shoulders and hangs his head in defeat Thest thing I want is to hurt him. “Right. This is what you want.”
None of this is my fault. That’s all I can tell myself as I kiss his cheek before carrying my bags to the car. None of this is my fault; I’m trying to do what’s best for my baby. Our baby. Right now, Gianni is what’s best.
Gianni will always be what’s best. For both of us.