Page 22 of Merciless Oath

“Yes?”

“Stay away from Enzo.”

I spend the next few days in hyper-vigilance mode, making sure Matilda is never alone.

We quietly hire a third-party security company to patrol the grounds at all times. When my father calls, Uncle Luigi casually talks business, never once mentioning the trouble brewing here. As for the spray paint incident, it’s been dismissed as random graffiti—nothing serious, just a prank.

Any space in my mind not occupied with Matilda’s safety is overtaken by thoughts of Enzo. I spend the week lost in a haze of nostalgia, remembering all the little ways he made me feel safe and loved that summer.

It was only a few months, but it was real.An undeniable soul connection, and even now, my soul yearns for him.

As I’m getting Matilda ready for her daily private lessons, I remember the day I found out I was pregnant. It was a month after that sizzling afternoon at the studio, the last time I saw Enzo.

Once I realized Enzo was gone, I spent a month in bed, crying and refusing to speak to anyone. I knew that what we had could end at any moment, but I never expected him to just ghost me.

When I started throwing up every morning, my mother was convinced that my depression had started manifesting in physical ways and dragged me to the doctor.

I’ll never forget the bewildering combination of emotions I felt when I got the call from the doctor’s office. I was six weeks pregnant, depressed, heartbroken, and completely alone.

But I had a glimmer of hope to hang on to—a tiny piece of Enzo that I could cherish forever.

“All done.” I grin down at her tiny, happy face and tug on a braid. “Ready for your lessons?”

“Yes, but I wish I got more computer time.” She pouts, hopping down from the little stool she uses to reach the bathroom sink. “And more Lego time.”

“Just like your dad.” I laugh and marvel at how similar her interests are to Enzo’s. At nearly six years old, Matilda is already deeply interested in technology, math, and how everything works.

“Daddy?” she gasps, her eyes lighting up instantly.

Shit.Per my father’s command, I rarely mention Matilda’s father.

I know she’s curious why all her friends back in California have daddies and she doesn’t. It sometimes throws her into little melancholy moods, and she tries to question me, but I rarely reveal anything.

My phone rings, saving me from the conversation, and I shoo her out of the bathroom. Distracted, I answer it without checking the ID.

“Hello?”

A series of clicks and beeps assaults my eardrums. I instantly drop the call, annoyed at myself.

These blocked numbers have been calling all week, and I’ve started ignoring them. It’s always either these weird beeps orMussorgsky’sSongs and Dances of Deathplaying eerily through the speakers.

I curse and text my tech guy, letting him know I got another one. He’s been trying to trace the calls but hasn’t had any luck so far.

Enzo would find the caller in a heartbeat.I mull over calling him for the millionth time, but force myself to uphold my end of Uncle Luigi’s deal.

Tucking my phone in my pocket, I wander downstairs and into the kitchen. I have about an hour before I need to meet the contractors at the waterfront complex to do the final design walkthrough.

Although this place is just another front for our cross-country drug trafficking empire, I’m pretty proud of it.

Not only will it give the residents of this city tons of new social places to gather, but I designed it all myself. From the living walls to the community rooftop garden and wellness studio, I’ve left little pieces of myself all over the complex.

A small package on the kitchen island catches my eye. I wander over and examine it, looking for an address, but it’s unmarked.

It’s perched on top of a pile of mail, so I figure Uncle Luigi or whoever brought it in must have checked to make sure it’s safe. I pull the ribbon off and pop the top open, confused at what I see.

One by one, I pull out the four wooden blocks.Children’s alphabet blocks.

I stare at the letters dumbly, trying to figure them out. There’s only one option I realize, arranging the blocks in a neat line.

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