Page 47 of Vow of Vengeance

Mom says, “I’ll save this number as a contact?—”

“Don’t save this number—” I quickly think of a non-lie truth. “We’ve been told we won’t get much phone time.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to be spending time on the phone anyway. You need to be out there being young, having fun, trying new things, kissing boys, having all the experiences I never got to. Live it up!”

I hate when she says stuff like that. The mom-to-daughter translation is processing in three… two… one…

“I need to live vicariously through you because I got pregnant with you by your father when I was young and single and free and had my whole life ahead of me, and the last thing I wantedwas to be tied down by a baby (you) and a man (your father) that I didn’t love.”

What if I loved my father? Does she ever think about that? The only thing I know is that he had me clutched to his chest, holding me tight in his arms moments before he was killed.

She goes on, excited for my fake adventures. “Take every opportunity they give you. See as much of the world as you can.”

My heart sinks. I don’t even desire to travel. I’m a homebody. I barely leave my circle of school, work, small town for the movies and shops, and home.

A place like the Villa suits me. It is self-contained and equipped for all my needs, and it has the most beautiful setting I’ve ever seen. I glance out the window, seeing the snow-capped mountains behind the lake.

I'd never want to leave if I came here under other circumstances.

And this room he prepared for me. I look around at the luxury. It’s so beautiful.

A wee well of loyalty for Haze springs up in me. Someone humiliated him and stole a ton of money. I don’t let her off this easy. I want the truth. “If you didn’t scam Haze, who did? And where is the rest of the money?” I ask.

Haze said we owed ten times that.

“The rest of it?” she says. Her tone is straightforward and honest. She has no idea how much was stolen. “I don’t know what you mean. I was only given the tuition payment.”

Not only did my mom NOT make the profile, but she won’t tell me who did, who stole the money, and whoever stole it didn’t tell her how much they took. There’s no time to investigate further.

I ask my last pressing question. “Mom, have you seen Carter around?”

“Carter? Not since I last saw him sneaking out your bedroom window at six a.m. the day I took you for the IUD. Speaking of, please, use protection! There could be all kinds of different STDs you could be exposed to while traveling.”

“Gross, Mom.” I’ve never told her I’m still a virgin. Heat flashes over my face, thinking I won’t be for much longer, and she had a hand in putting me in this predicament. “I don’t think you need to worry about that—” The bell chimes, cutting off my words. My heart pounds. He’s home. “Mom, I’ve got to go!”

“Go! Go! Have the best time ever?—”

I snap the phone closed. I’ve never hung up on my mom, but I had no choice. I couldn’t risk speaking out loud. Where do I hide the phone? There’s no time to silence it, and I’m sure Mom will call again. He can’t hear it ring or know I have it.

I still wear the gray hoodie I put on this morning. I tear it off, wrap the phone inside, and then run to the closet. I unzip my backpack, burying the sweatshirt inside. Eyeing my green jacket hanging in front of me, I tear it off the hanger, covering the backpack with it for good measure.

Hoping this will silence the phone, I still worry about what would happen if my mom called back.

What do I do? Where do I go? I’m flushed and out of breath. I straighten the white tee I wear. Gather my loose hair and smoothit over one shoulder. I tiptoe to the bed, burying my face in the pillow. I try to calm my breath as I listen for footsteps on the stairs.

The footsteps of my husband-to-be.

A knot forms a pit of ice in my stomach, thinking of my mom’s dreams for me to travel and “kiss lots of boys.” There’s only one person I want to kiss, and he’s a full-grown man. She will be so disappointed when she finds out her eighteen-year-old daughter is married. It will break her heart when she learns it’s to a mafia man like my father.

A man she clearly hated.

I faintly hear Haze’s deep voice as he calls out for Gian.

A few moments later, I hear his footsteps jogging up the stairs. My door is thrown open. I debate pretending to sleep, but when he speaks, his voice is filled with so much emotion my attention instantly goes to him.

He stands in the doorway, staring at me, worry in his brown eyes. “Gian is missing. He’s not here.”

“Did you check his room?” I sit up, leaning on my elbow. My hair brushes over my bare arm. “He might still be packing.”

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