Page 30 of Third Degree

“We didn’t do anything, Angelo.” Elio pulled away from me, and I gripped my hands, wrapping them tightly around my chest. “We keep our deal. Let’s not start a war over this,” Elio added.

“I will amend the deal,” my father piped up. “You two will never see each other again.” My father looked over at me. “You are too young for him, cara mia.” He offered his hand. “You will be granted your freedom, but not so you can run back to him.”

I had planned on coming straight here as soon as I was granted the freedom from Elio’s end of the bargain. I didn’t tell anyone because I wanted it to be a surprise, but my father knew. He must have known it was what I wanted after he caught us together. This was going to break me. Tear me apart.

My heart was outside of my chest, knowing this was the end of the story. I was holding onto a thread of hope, but in an instant, my father had severed that thread.

“Go, rosa mia.” Elio leaned down toward me and whispered in my ear, “I will always be here when you need me. Find me when you’re truly free.Sei mia, sempre(You are mine, always).” He was doing this to protect me—to protect my peace. He was my savior in more ways than one.

My father snatched my hand and led me back into the house. I stole one last glance at Elio, seeing him standing in the darkness of the shadows, but I could swear, even from here, I there was wetness under his eyes.

Little did he know I would do anything to come back to him.

With a heavy heart, I let my father lead me away and close the door behind us, knowing this could be the end.

The thought of leaving Elio behind, the one who set my soul on fire, the one who freed me, crushed me. The future looked dim and uncertain, but deep down, I swore nothing would break our love. No matter the distance, no matter what hurdles we faced, I held on to the belief that somehow, someday, we would find each other again.

PART II

13

Daphne

30 years old

Two Hours Prior

“You have come so far since I first met you, Daphne,” my therapist complimented me.

Sitting on the long white couch in her office, I looked around at the small but cozy room she’d created. It was one of the first things I did when I moved out here: find someone to talk to about all the stuff that I was never diagnosed with growing up.

It turns out I suffered from panic disorder and a sprinkle of depression, which mostly caused my emotional dysregulation. Going to therapy weekly had really helped me learn new techniques to process how I felt.

“Thank you, Ms. Ashlee.” I gave my therapist, a brunette with impeccable style and a knack for knowing the right thing to say, a small smile and glanced at the clock, which indicated we were at the end of our hour-long session.

“How are you feeling after today?”

“I feel more at peace with myself. Moving out here to San Diego was scary, but the nightmares and insomnia have gotten better.” I chuckled. “I can go to sleep when it is still dark outside, even though it does take me a while.”

“It is all about baby steps, and you are putting in the work to reap the rewards.” I couldn’t tell her everything about my life, and I still had lies that I kept to myself, like the fact that I decided to go by Daphne instead of Gianna.

“Any news from your parents?” Ms. Ashlee asked.

“No.” I had told her that my parents were forcing me to marry someone in the next year, and I prayed they had just forgotten.

She nodded thoughtfully. “Remember your breathing techniques and focus if you do. It was so great to see you. You are doing so well. I will see you next week.”

Iwasdoing better. Daphne was not Gianna. Daphne got over her anxiety about being around people and now had friends. Daphne even went to clubs surrounded by chaos and that didn’t send her into full panic attack mode. Daphne was everything Gianna wished she could have been. Daphne was healing.

Heading to one of my best friend’s wedding welcome night celebrations was the last thing I wanted to do, especially after the conversation I’d had tonight on the phone with my mother.

She had to call me to remind me that I was turning thirty-one in a few months, and I was still unmarried. She also called to confirm I had made it to my last doctor’s visit to verify that I was still a virgin. This was an annual occurrence. Ever since the incident, as they liked to call it, had sent them into a tizzy when I was eighteen.

There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about the week that changed my life and the path my life was on when I was eighteen years old.

There also wasn’t a day that I didn’t think about Elio and what he did for me. What he sacrificed for me.

When we got back to Chicago, I would never forget how much I complained to my parents about what they’d done to me. What they took away from me. I’d spent months on the computer, desperate to learn more about him. I searched long and far for him. I didn’t know his last name, only that he worked with the Gambini family.

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