Page 7 of My Sweetest Temptation

“I’ll get you some help,” I told her.

She reached out with a trembling, bloodied hand, her grip weak but determined as she struggled to speak. “Gigi,” she gasped. “Get out of here.” You need to go where they can’t find you.”

What was she talking about? So who couldn’t find us?

“No, Mom. I need to get you and Dad help,” I pleaded with her.

“Listen to me.” She squeezed my hand, her gaze locking onto mine. “I need you do exactly what I say.” She bit her lower lip and groaned in pain before she continued. “Uncle Malik will keep you safe,” she said, her voice growing weaker with each passing moment. “He’s already been given the distress signal to come get you.”

“No.” I shook my head, tears flowing down my face. “Let me call the police and the ambulance,” I said, reaching for my phone.

“No,” she said quickly. “No police. Go. Now.”

“But you could die,” I cried.

“I’m already dead, baby.” Her words were like a bullet to my heart, and I felt the ground beneath me crumble. I didn’t want this to be the end. I needed my mom. She wasn’t ready to go yet. The angels would have to wait a little longer.

“Georgina,” she said, her voice firm despite her weakness. “Listen to me, baby. We don’t have much time.”

Through teary eyes, I pleaded in a quavering voice, “Please, Mom.”

“I am so proud of you,” she whispered, her breathing shallow. “Remember that your father and I did everything we could to protect you. But I knew this day would come, and I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you for it.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, glancing between her and Dad, who was still unconscious.

Protect me from what?

“Just promise me that—” She wheezed, her eyes fluttering closed. When they opened again, the light within them had dimmed further. “I love you so much, and I’m so sorry.”

“I love you, Mama,” I whispered, a lump forming in my throat as my mother’s grip loosened.

With one final, trembling breath, her hand went limp in mine. My heart shattered into a million irretrievable pieces as I watched her slip away, the world around me fading into an unbearable, suffocating silence.

I didn’t know how long I sat there clutching my mother’s lifeless hand as I tried to process what the hell had just happened.

Eventually my gaze fell to my phone, and I dialed 9-1-1.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” the dispatcher asked.

“Someone broke into our home and my parents are...” I choked on the words, finding it too difficult to say them out loud, to admit they were true.

“Ma’am? Did you say someone broke into your house? Are you hurt? Is there anyone else in the house with you?” The dispatcher’s questions came at me rapidly, making it hard for me to know which to answer first.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” she asked in a softer tone.

“Gigi,” I stammered.

“Okay, Gigi. My name is Ella, and I’m going to get you some help. But first, I need you to tell me your address.”

I rattled off the address, still clutching onto my mother’s hand as if the connection would give her life and bring her back to me.

“Good. Now, tell me—who is hurt?”

“My mother is dead and my father?—”

“Gigi?” My dad’s voice was raw and strained. I turned to face him, and he struggled to lift his head.

I dropped my phone and rushed to kneel beside him. “Dad?” I cradled his bloody face in my hands. His stormy blue gaze was filled with pain and fear. “I need you to tell me what happened. Who did this?” I demanded, trying to steady my voice.

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