My father always says my mother was weak, and that was why she did what she did.
But Paola’s completely different.
She’s full of fire.
Strong.
Vicious.
I thought she’d try to escape, but not this way.
I try not to remember the things I buried deep into a dark corner of my mind, but I can’t stop the memories.
As I close my eyes, I can see my mother’s body on the floor, her empty eyes staring at the ceiling.
And then the image changes, and I see Paola.
The images flash back and forth.
I open my eyes and drive my fist into a nearby wall.
I let out a hiss, glancing down at my bloody knuckles.
Fuck!
I don’t lose control like this.
I don’t let my emotions get the better of me.
I don’t want to feel any of this.
I don’t want to remember.
But Paola fucked everything up.
I hate her more than ever.
Maybe that’s been her intention all along.
As I turn, I spot the Espositos coming toward me.
I quickly wipe all emotion off my face and lower my hand.
“I’m sorry this has happened,” Esposito says with a grave face.
His wife stands next to him, her eyes trained on the floor.
“I will take care of everything,” Paola’s father adds.
I furrow my brow because I have no clue what he’s talking about.
“The bills,” he says. “And to make sure word of this doesn’t get out.”
“All right.” I realize he doesn’t even know if his daughter is alive or dead, but I suppose he doesn’t care.
Our deal wouldn’t be affected if Paola died by her own hand.
“Is she alive?” he finally asks.