Page 95 of Secret Baby for the Italian Mafia King

“And…?”

“The money, the property, the businesses.Everything, Nadia.”

She keeps staring at me, those plump little lips pressed tight.

“That’s it…?”

I stare at her, bewildered.

“He offered to settle, to leave us alone, and instead of taking that deal, Harper almost—” she catches herself, drops her eyes to the little girl with her head rocked against Nadia’s side “—she ends up in thehospital?” Her rage wobbles on that last word, the shade of those green eyes glimmering like poison. “We could be safe right now, but instead we’re what…playing war again? Going on the run?”

“Do you really think Dellucci would just let us walk away? Once we had nothing and no one left to defend ourselves with, he’d come for us, regardless! Why wouldn’t he? What would stop him? The law?”

“The families! He wouldn’t want to put a target on his back right after a windfall like that!”

I turn away from her because it’s ridiculous, but she somehow gets out of Harper’s grasp without being noticed and chases me across the house where we can raise our voices.

“You had a choice!”

“So, that’s what you want? To go back into poverty? Drown in medical debt and wonder where your rent is going to come from? You want to have nothing again, Nadia?”

“I never had nothing,” she says, her voice scathing, “Because I always had her, and you could have, too. And you turned it down because you can’t imagine not living in some mansion with a bunch of staff and sports cars!”

“That’s—that has nothing to do with it—” I say, the accusation so off the mark, I can barely counter it.

“Take the deal, Ren!” she says, all but begging.

My mouth feels dry, my heart heavy. I shake my head.

“It’s too late for that.”

Her expression breaks, pained and furious all at once. But it doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t have taken that deal.

“Nadia, I have an obligation—to Harper, I—”

She sweeps away from me.

“Where are you going?” I call after her.

“Exactly where you told me to. Somewhere you don’t know about.”

28

Nadia

I always hear nostalgia talked about fondly. I guess it’s because we always see the past through rose-colored glasses. A certain lemon-scented cleaner that takes you back to your mother’s kitchen, or the crisp smell of autumn leaves returning you to the edge of your first bonfire, watching the pearly skin of your marshmallow bubble and blacken on the stick.

But this nostalgia, it feels bitter as it washes over me.

I stand again in the ruins of our life, being chased out of own home, even for as little time as we could call it ours. I don’t have a suitcase of my own, so I steal one from Ren’s closet, let it thump vindictively down every step in the goddamn house.

I put Harper’s clothes in first and then use what little bit of room that’s left for mine. Things that will work for a job interview. Perfume. The jewelry that Olivia bought me, though I don’tthink any of it is very expensive. I’d feel disgusting putting it on, but I won’t mind parting with it at a pawn shop.

I can’t believe Ren was given a choice to bury the hatchet, and he turned it down. He didn’t eventell me. He didn’t care at all what I thought about it. I told Ren he could do whatever he wanted with my life. I did not extend that same offer for Harper’s.

Harper watches me.

“Are we going somewhere?” she asks.

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