Page 1 of Marcello DeLuca

Part 1

The Past

Chapter One

Safia

The Unthinkable

My father sat at the kitchen table. His eyes were glued to the screen of his laptop as his fingers danced across the keys. He scanned through files, seeming engrossed in his work.

At the other end of the table, my mother savored a pastry with a serene smile. “Do you have to work at the table, Stephen?” she asked, a hint of exasperation in her voice.

“Yes,” he replied without looking up. “I have a few more things to get in order before we leave for our trip.” He looked anxious, but he was always a busy man with something to do and somewhere to go.

“Are you still leaving your laptop here?” she pressed.

My father grunted in response. Wherever he went, his laptop seemed permanently attached to his hand or within arm’s reach. I couldn’t imagine him surviving a three-day weekend without it. If he were somehow able to do that, it would mean he’d rely heavily on his cell for sending and receiving messages.

“Stephen, you promised me that you would,” Mom reminded him, her voice softening to a persuasive tone.

“I will, baby,” he assured her, though the warmth of his words didn’t quite chase away the worry etched on his face. “You guys hurry up and finish your breakfast. We have to get out of here if we plan to be in Destin by three,” he reminded us, again without looking up from his screen.

My little sister, Stephanie, clapped her hands in glee. “Well, I’m finished!” she declared; her plate untouched. The mere mention of leaving for the beach had her bouncing with excitement.

She rushed to empty her plate, put it in the sink, and dashed toward the door, her laughter trailing behind her.

My mother chuckled, shaking her head. “I guess that means we’re leaving.”

“Dad, are we going to Grandma’s house before the beach house?” I asked, hoping to confirm our plans. A stop at Grandma’s meant I got to see Lucy, one of my best friends from Destin.

“What? Oh, yeah,” he replied absently, his eyes never leaving the screen. His body was here, but his mind was somewhere else, tangled in whatever work had him so preoccupied.

I left the kitchen to grab my bag from the living room, where it lay waiting by the door. My sister and I filed into the car, with Mom staying behind to give last-minute instructions to our maid and Dad staying behind to spend his last few moments on his laptop.

Once they got into the car, we settled into our seats. The anticipation of our trip filled the air. It was supposed to be a weekend of sun, sand, and family time—something we all desperately needed. Little did I know, this trip would change everything.

We had arrived in Destin when my father suddenly veered off the main road.

“Stephen, where are you going?” my mother asked, puzzled.

“I need to make a quick stop, Maria,” he replied. “It won’t take long.”

“Can’t it wait until we get to the beach? There are stores in that area. We’re almost there,” she protested.

My father sounded agitated when he responded, “This won’t take long. I told someone I would meet them at this location.”

“Okay,” she droned. “If you must stop, I guess this is the perfect stop to make. Look at this place. It has changed so much.”

I looked up from the video I was watching on my phone as we pulled into a small, quaint neighborhood that seemed plucked out of a storybook, complete with cobblestone streets lined with charming shops and cafés.

Dad parked the car near a local market and reached underneath his seat to grab a large yellow envelope. He then reached over and touched my mother’s hand before eying me and my sister in the rearview mirror. “This will only take a second.”

Stephanie’s oval brown eyes were wide with excitement as she took in the scenery. “Can we get out and look around?”

Dad hesitated, then nodded. “Alright but stay close to your mother. This will be a quick meeting, then I’ll be ready to go.”

As a business consultant, my father had clients all over the United States, so it wasn’t unusual for him to have an impromptu meeting with one of his clients while we were headed to our vacation home. We were used to it.

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