Page 13 of Risky Vows

Is every night going to be like this? My heart races.

I’ve wondered what to do with my new life for the past few days. It's been so long since I thought about what I could do—I know what Iwantto do. Still, my family laughed when I suggested the idea of helping women survivors of domestic violence.

Besides, I can't say I'm free. I'm free from my family, but I'm not free like I am in any real sense. I may never get that.

Escaping my family was a mistake. Escaping my husband could end my life. I could be the one with body parts stuffed into my mouth. I cringe. Would he do it?

Why wouldn't he?

I sigh.

My phone buzzes. It's my mother. I ignore her call.

Then, a couple of seconds later, she texts.

Amara, you need to come over. Quick.

Another text.

Just come.

Okay, now I'm intrigued.

It's unlikely that a nemesis has invaded my family home and is now holding my parents hostage. A normal person would call the police if given the opportunity, but my dad's dealings would deter them. He always stayed away from law enforcement when his mind was clearer. Even with his steady confusion, I doubt my mom would want him to talk to anyone who could arrest him. Who knows what he'd end up saying?

So that leaves me. The spare child.

With Alonzo being in a coma, even though I'm not as capable as they judge me to be, in a situation of next-kin emergency, I'm it.

I text the driver, and he quickly meets me at the front of the house. During the day, he hangs out in the employee's quarters on top of the garage when he's not in the kitchen talking to Colleen.

Anthony takes me quickly. I don't convey to him that this is urgent. I've been my mom's daughter for too long not to make a scene if it isn't necessary.

When we arrive, Anthony stays at the front of the house after my mom opens the door. She looks at me and lets out a loudfake laugh, which tells me she’s nervous. To others, that sound is grating and annoying. To me, it signals something bad has happened.

Vittoria Montefiore is rarely nervous.

"Come to my room, honey. I bought some new stuff I've been dying to show you," she says, snatching me away toward the primary suite.

I follow her through the large hallways into the living room, filled with heavy mirrors, bronze finishes, vaulted ceilings, and impeccable décor. She closes the door after entering her and my father's massive suite.

"What is it?" I ask, knowing she won't take me into her gigantic closet.

My mother looks concerned, her fingers hovering over her chest. She wears a pristine white dress cinched at the waist to showcase her body, trim and toned even for someone her age. "Amara, the nurse noticed something last night. It's about your brother."

I plop on the chaise longue near her bed. My heart nearly jumps from my chest. That's it. Alonzo is dying.

In many ways, he hasn't been part of our family. But the hope he'd wake up one day is like the faraway vision of a lighthouse when you're adrift at sea on a stormy night. The light flickering, about to go out, the view blurry, but still standing.

And now, just like that, she's about to say it. Something happened, and my brother is gone. The lighthouse is about to disappear from view.

Tears well up inside me. Unlike all the other times I fought them, unwilling to let my mom see the weakness, I can no longer hide them.

"Amara," my mom calls me, a pang of impatience in her voice.

I look at her, and she's in the middle of the suite. A touch of fear flits across her green eyes, and the textured gray walls close in on us. This room has never made me as claustrophobic as I am now. What’s going on?

"Last night, Alonzo moved his head a bit. We thought it could be a body spasm or something of the sort. Then, the nurse came to get me in my bed at four am."

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