Page 85 of Beautifully Broken
Before the wedding, we had a lot of things to air out, including some secrets that would have ruined the men had they ever whispered a word of them any sooner.
"Deal," Nonno says without hesitation. "Though I should warn you, I have some rather boring secrets. My worst confession might be that I actually enjoyed that reality show you made us watch last month, even if I had to read subtitles."
"Jeongwaja?" I ask, laughing. "You said it was mindless drivel."
"It is," he says with dignity. "Mindless, amusing drivel I found surprisingly entertaining."
"Oh, this is good," Uncle Tony says, rubbing his hands together. "What other guilty pleasures are you hiding, Pops?"
"We have two weeks to find out," Daddy says, standing and offering me his hand. "But first, let's get to that villa. I have a feeling we're going to need some privacy for all this truth-telling."
I take his hand and stand, feeling stronger than I have in hours. The panic attack has left me drained but also oddly cleansed, as if finally addressing my hidden feelings has lifted a weight I didn't realize I was carrying.
"Lead the way," I tell them, squeezing Daddy's hand. "I'm ready for whatever comes next."
And for the first time in eight years, I actually mean it.
***
The villa is everything they promised: whitewashed walls gleaming in the Santorini sun, a private infinity pool blending into the azure horizon of theAegean Sea, and a secluded terrace with views that stretch forever. I stand at the edge, the warm breeze tugging at my hair, trying to let the beauty of this place wash away the lingering echoes of my panic attack.
Daddy’s hand rests lightly on my lower back, a steady anchor, while Uncle Tony unpacks bags with exaggerated grumbling about the weight of Nonno’s books. Nonno, meanwhile, is already inspecting the kitchen, muttering about the quality of the local olive oil.
It’s perfect. Or it should be. But my mind keeps drifting back to the airport, to the distraught father, his voice cracking as he spoke to the police, the woman’s words ringing in my ears: “She’s gone. Just … disappeared.” I can’t shake the image of that girl, someone’s daughter, someone’s friend, alone, scared, in the hands of someone who might hurt her. My chest tightens again, not with panic this time, but with a restless, urgent need to do something.
“Sasha, you okay?” Daddy’s voice is soft, his dark eyes searching mine as he steps closer, blocking the sun with his broad frame.
I take a deep breath, the salt air grounding me. “I can’t stop thinking about her. That girl from the airport. What if she’s out there, terrified, waiting for someone to help her?”
He nods, understanding flickering across his face. “The police are handling it, sweetheart. They’ve got her luggage, her description; they’re probably already tracking her down.”
“But what if they’re not fast enough?” I ask, turning to face him fully. “What if she’s like Tessa was, just a pawn they can discard sooner rather than later? I couldn’t save my best friend, Daddy. I couldn’t save myself. But maybe I can now.”
Daddy’s expression softens, but before he can respond, Uncle Tony’s voice cuts through from the terrace. “Hey, tesoro, you gonna help me with these bags, or am I the only one working here?”
I force a smile, walking over to him. “You’re doing fine, big guy. Besides, I’m pretty sure half those bags are Nonno’s books.”
“Guilty as charged,” Nonno calls from the kitchen, holding up a bottle of wine. “But I’ve found the local vintage, so I’m contributing in my own way.”
I laugh, but it’s hollow. They’re trying to keep things light, to give me the vacation they planned, but my mind won’t let go. I sink onto a cushioned chair, staring out at the sea.
“I want to find her,” I say quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
The air shifts. Uncle Tony pauses mid-unpacking, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and looks at me. Daddy sits beside me, his hand finding mine. Nonno emerges from the kitchen, wine bottle still in hand, his green eyes sharp and assessing.
“Sasha,” Nonno says gently, setting the bottle down and crossing to me. “The police here are trained for this. They have resources, contacts, procedures. We’re on vacation, and you’ve already been through enough today.”
“I know they’re doing their job,” I say, my voice firmer than I feel. “But remember how good the Chicago police did when my father was murdering people associated with our firm? I can’t just sit here, sipping wine and swimming in a pool, knowing she’s out there. I’ve been that girl; scared, helpless, waiting for someone to care enough to look for me. I survived because you found me in time. What if no one finds her? What if I could help and I don’t?”
Daddy squeezes my hand, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. “You’re not responsible for every missing person, sweetheart. You don’t have to carry the world.”
“Maybe not,” I concede, meeting his gaze. “But I’m a lawyer. I’ve spent years getting people out of trouble. I know how to ask questions, how to find people who don’t want to be found. If there’s a chance I can help her, I have to try. I can’t live with myself if I don’t.”
Uncle Tony drops the duffel bag with a thud, running a hand through his blond hair. “Princess, you’re talking about chasing a missing person in a foreign country. We don’t speak Greek, we don’t know the island, and we sure as hell don’t have badges. This could get messy—dangerous, even.”
“I know,” I say, standing now, my resolve hardening. “I’m not asking you to come with me. I’d never put you in danger. But I can’t ignore this. I need to do something. Talk to people, check the airport, see if anyone saw anything. I’ll be careful, I promise.”
“Like hell you’re going alone,” Uncle Tony growls, stepping closer, his broad frame towering over me. “If you’re doing this, we’re doing this. End of story.”
