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“I can no longer believe anything you say to be true,” I answer.
He nods in understanding. And then he looks at the girl again.
“For you, my love.”
He shoots Ray in the head. Without warning. Without hesitation. I have already raised my gun, but it is too late.
His is aimed straight for my face.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
I AM MAKING a cup of tea when the doorbell rings.
The doorbell never rings. Not here at Moldavia. I retrieve the small pistol that I took from my father’s house and move towards the door.
“Isabella,” a voice speaks from the other side. “It’s me.”
My chest expands with air, and in a moment, I forget that I can no longer trust him. He is not a friend. But it doesn’t matter.
The only thing my mind can comprehend right now is that he is back.
He is the last link to Javi that I have. I keep the gun in my hand and open the door. River stands on the other side, apple in hand. Relaxed as ever. Casual as ever. But there is something very different about him.
His usual smirk is absent, and instead, his eyes are heavy and flat.
“Are you going to invite me in for a cup of tea?” he asks.
“No,” I answer. “But you can come in for the truth if you’d like.”
He gives me a stiff nod and joins me inside. The pistol remains clutched in my hand as he takes a seat at the counter island. I maintain a safe distance from the other side.
He eyes the weapon but does not appear to be bothered by it. I don’t expect him to. Some men hide their evil well. Men like my father. Men like River.
“You betrayed him,” I whisper.
I can’t keep the tears from falling this time. I can’t help getting emotional as I recall the horrifying details of Javi’s childhood.
“How could you?” I snap. “He thought you were his friend.”
River has the decency to look ashamed, and his voice reflects his guilt when he responds.
“I know,” he answers. “It is why I am here now. To make amends.”
“There are no amends,” I say. “It’s done. It’s over. The chance for that has passed. There will never be another one again.”
River does not argue me on this point, but instead goes on to say what he came to.
“I have always loved Javi like a brother. I did not do right by him, and for that I am sorry. It is something I will have to live with. But I had my reasons. And I think he would understand, had he been in the same position.”
“You just left,” I say. “You didn’t come to his funeral. There was a funeral. Did you even know that? I had to bury him, alone. Without anyone in the world who loved him. It’s not fair, River. You should have been there.”
“Isabella, I know you are upset. But the reason I have come to you today is not because of Javi.”
I blink and try to make sense of the gravity in his voice. I don’t know what it could be. What could be so serious that isn’t about Javi?
“It’s your father,” he tells me. “Isabella…”
His voice is broken, soft. And only slightly apologetic now.
“I don’t know how to tell you this. But your father is dead. And I am the one who killed him.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
MY BELLA IS beautiful under the spotlight.
The room is dim. Intimate. The seats are sold out. And it is not like most concerts. There is no screaming. There is no talking. There is complete silence when she takes her place on the bench, and they all hold their breath. Waiting for my angel to sing.
She adjusts the microphone and glances nervously into the crowd before turning away again. She speaks softly at first. Holding a hand over her belly. The place where my child grows inside of her.
“This is a new song,” she says. “It’s called Words Only You Can Hear.”
She looks towards the ceiling and closes her eyes, a solitary tear rolling down her cheek as her fingers begin to roam over the keys.
The music is soft and beautiful, just like Bella. And the words are songs she sang only for me. At Moldavia.
It is the first of many songs. She has been busy in my absence. Busy writing and playing. This show is a time capsule of our journey together, and then hers alone. She sings of her pain those first few months. Her fear.
And then later, her love.
She sings of her anguish when I left her. Of her anger. And then, of her solitude.
The last and final song, she dedicates to her father. But it is not what I expect. It is anguish again. Anguish over his lies, and her questioning who he really was. Torment over the things he did. And I know by the time the music has finished playing that she has learned the truth.
She knows he is dead.
And she knows the parts of me I could never bring myself to tell her about. I don’t know how. But my Bella is smart. She is curious. And in my absence, she has only grown stronger.
The room is still silent. The crowd holds their breath while they wait for her to speak again.
And finally, she rises from the bench. Like a phoenix rising from the
flames. Her head held high. Her grief behind her.
She picks up the microphone one last time before the crowd erupts into applause.
“Thank you.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
SECURITY USHERS me back to the dressing room where Luke greets me at the door.
“Out of the fucking park,” he says. “Baby, you were out of the fucking park.”
“Thank you, Luke.”
“So…”
He lingers in place, blocking my entry.
“So?”
“Let’s talk next show. World tour. Isabella, you have to give them more.”
He’s got dollar signs in his eyes, and I’m already shaking my head.
“I told you the deal, Luke. One show. One time. That’s it. I’m done. I’m out of the game for good.”
His shoulders fall, and he still doesn’t want to accept it.
“Baby doll, c’mon, did you not see that crowd out there? They were wild for you. You have to ride the wave.”
“There is no wave,” I tell him. “This was it, Luke.”
“So that’s it?” he repeats. “You’re just going to give all this up and go back to your hole and be a mom?”
I smile, despite the horrified expression on his face.
“That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“Unbelievable,” he mutters. “Unbelievable. You’re going to miss it, Isabella. You’re going to want this back. This feeling. But you won’t be able to have it. Not if you wait too long.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I’ll live with it if I do.”
He sighs. Shuffles from side to side.
“Will you call me if you change your mind?”
“You’ll be the first number I dial.”
He moves in for a creepy hug, and I hold my hand out instead. He shakes it, and then reluctantly moves along. I open the door to my room and sit down. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath.
That’s when it hits me.
The scent. The unmistakable scent of wild roses. I open my eyes to find the stems laid out on my dressing table.
