Page 70 of The Devil We Know

35-ish years ago

To say there’s no love lost between my mother and me would be an understatement.

And not just because she isn’t my biological mother.

You see, when my father found a job for me, this meant, in her eyes, I was more useful than she was.

It was just happenstance that she fell pregnant a couple of months before I was sent out on my first mission.

Shockingly, her demeanor immediately changed, knowing that the child she carried would someday provide the Ferro family with even more power.

What she didn’t count on was having that same child would be her end.

WhatIdidn’t count on is the fact that my father would be so overcome by the loss of her that he would get it into his head to dispose of the thing that killed her.

And this is when his habit of ignoring my existence became entirely convenient.

While he thought he was burying his wife and child together in a casket, I had worked to bribe people into placing the stillborn of a local in the casket and handing me the baby.

It was an impulsive move. I didn’t think about how I was going to carry on with this ruse as this baby got bigger, never mind the fact I’d have to feed it and keep it away from the man who tried to kill it.

It was fun at first and certainly worked to pass the time as I waited to see if my first mission was a success.

Fortunately, some of my loyal staff assisted me in my duplicity. They took turns tending to the baby whenever I had to be out and about, and basically, intentionally, in the man’s way. They brought formula, bottles, and diapers, and they also helped keep the evidence under control.

It became even more complicated once we had confirmation that my first mission was successful. And then, I had to learn, in real-time, the ill effects of first-trimester pregnancy.

Keep in mind that my thirteen-year-old body wasn’t quite prepared for the job.

Weeks of sickness took its toll on me, and even with the help of the people around me, it became more and more evident that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the care of an infant under such strained circumstances.

And that’s when I called Mickey.

Mickey had been assigned to me as a young child. He was tasked with keeping me out of trouble and also keeping me in line, both jobs which he took very seriously.

He knew I had taken the baby and made it look like it had died, and he didn’t say anything. But that didn’t mean he would be able to assist me indefinitely.

Every day that goes by, the more at risk all of these people are for helping me keep this secret.

And then, after a particularly bad night, I had to accept defeat and acknowledge we needed a new plan.

It was the cook who had the brilliant idea to find a suitable family and have them adopt the baby.

I was skeptical at first, but I knew Mickey would take the job seriously, and he would find not only a suitable home but perhaps even a loving one.

Or if nothing else, one that would provide protection to him through his formative years.

Now, here I am, enjoying my last few minutes of second-guessing the decision while knowing I have no other choice.

A knock at the door sounds, and after a moment of hesitation, I say, “Come in.”

Mickey enters, shutting the door behind him and then walking toward me slowly. He stops in front of me and asks, “Are you ready?”

I shake my head, swallowing the painful lump in my throat as I try to fathom what it will be like to be alone again.

He gives me a soft smile and then inclines his head at me as he replies, “I know, Lils. But you’re doing the right thing.”

I nod, lifting a shoulder dismissively as I say, “Maybe. I guess only time will tell.”

---