AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She eyes me. Her long tapered fi
ngers and ruby polish are immaculate. “I’m completely serious. I earned my reputation protecting my family. You’ve done the same. People will define you in ways that are unbecoming. Just look at what the chatter about you—”
Mom must have kicked her because Constance suddenly stops talking.
I flick my gaze to Mom and then Constance, and then back to Mom. “Why, what are people saying about me?”
Mom tries to soften it. “Your parentage is being discussed, and the disappearance of your only sibling is creating gossip.”
“Ma, I don’t care what they think, but I still want to know. Vic was an abomination, and I’m not sorry that he’s gone. I guess that makes me a monster.” A frown twists my lips as I stare at my row of crackers.
Constance snorts. “A monster? You?”
I lift my eyes, not shying away from my thoughts. I know what I did. I’m just not certain who I am because of it. Confessing bluntly, I admit, “Yeah, me. I lost it that night. I let the beast off the leash.”
Constance starts laughing, and it's a high-pitched giggle. She presses her fingertips to her mouth after putting down her cup of coffee so that it won’t spill. She places a hand on my arm. “Your beast is not a monster. It’s a character trait many people wish they had. You’re the girl who stood up to Satan and walked away.”
“Right, but at the same time, doesn’t the person who killed the devil become the devil?”
“No,” Constance snaps, entirely confident. “It’s not as if he were possessed by an evil spirit that now resides in you. Vic was a man, a deranged one, but his decisions were his own. His sins don’t flow into your hands.”
I realize that I don’t believe her. I twist in my chair, not liking this topic of conversation, but I manage to spit out what’s been keeping me awake. It’s a tiny thought, one that will fester and putrefy if remains unaddressed. “Vic became who he was because of me. If I hadn’t—”
Mom cuts me off, her hand suddenly on mine, possessive and assuring. “If you hadn’t been born? You can’t think like that. You did nothing to make him that way. Vic made his choices, and you made yours. You are not responsible for his actions. Sometimes people become so fixated on one thing. They think that their life would be better if this person didn’t exist. It poisons the well and seeps out into every aspect of their life. Blaming someone for your shortcomings is easy. Looking in the mirror is not. Avery, you spend more time examining yourself and your motives than anyone. You’ve tried to stay true to yourself, and you have. What do you care about more than anything?”
I swallow hard and blink back the tears in my eyes. “My family. But Mom—”
She pats my hand and squeezes. “And you saved yours. If you didn’t directly challenge Vic, I’d still be locked in that godforsaken basement. You saved me.” There are tears in her eyes. It’s the first time she’s talked about any of this with me.
Constance leans back in her chair and adds, “You saved my clan as well. That makes your loyalty unquestionable. You’re family, Avery. I hope you didn’t have plans on leaving because now you’re one of us. I meant it when I said that the other night. As far as I’m concerned, you earned the name Ferro.”
Tears well up and I start sobbing. Before I plaster my hands over my eyes, Mom and Constance exchange a horrified expression.
Mom’s hand is on my back. She’s crouching next to my chair, trying to comfort me. “Honey, what is it? What’s wrong?”
I’m completely crazy on the inside. I should be happy. Why the hell am I crying? “I don’t know!”
I feel Mom smile as she holds me tight against her. She runs her hand over my hair and sings a song from when I was a little girl. When she finishes, she adds, “I know why you’re crying. You thought you lost everything, but you haven’t. Coming to terms with that fact is giving me issues too.”
Constance blurts out, “Plus you’re pregnant, and your hormones are rapidly changing. Everything is going to feel paramount, even little things. Don’t explain yourself. You don’t have to—not to us or anyone else for that matter.”
Mom kisses the top of my head and squeezes me. “I love you.”
“I love you too. I wish Daddy were here. I keep thinking that and it feels like I’m an ingrate.” I pull back and swat at my tears. “I miss him.”
Mom’s eyes are glassy. She nods for a moment, unable to speak.
Constance leans forward and asks, “Tell me about him. I want to hear everything.”
It’s not until hours have passed and Sean is up that I realize what Constance gave us. Mom and I were able to talk about Daddy together, grieve his loss, and smile at his memories. Sharing a life doesn’t stop when that person is gone. I’m my dad’s girl. Victor Campone may be my biological father, but I will always be Ray Stanz’s daughter. His strength, laughter, and grit flows through my veins. I never noticed how much I’m like him.
In this moment, who I am and who I will always be, emerges from the shadows. The demons that have been at my heels for so long, waiting for me to fall and devour my remains are dispelled. Now, in the early light of dawn, they slither away. There’s a certainty to life that was missing for so long, a piece of knowledge that whispers today will come and go, the sun will rise and set, and I will still be breathing. The shadows that once clung to me so fiercely peel away. The crushing tightness in my chest recedes, the weight vanishing so that I can finally breathe again.
I know exactly who I am and what I’m capable of—Sean was right about that. People reveal their true nature at times of duress—some fall apart when pressed, while others turn rancid. My hands are stained with the blood of friends and foes—and I can live with it. I don’t need to worry about devolving into a monster or becoming the likes of the Campones. I’m a Stanz and a Ferro through and through.
CHAPTER 22
The powdery sand clings to the soles of my feet as I pad down the long strip of beach. I adjust my sarong around my hips, tugging at the knot when the wind threatens to whisk it away. Sunglasses shield my eyes from the golden light as the sun reaches its apex in the cloudless azure sky. A sheet of turquoise water stretches past the horizon to my left. The occasional sandbar peaks out from the surface of the tranquil sea. Scattered palm trees surround the large home behind me. It’s the only house on the entire island.
This isn’t Manhattan. No, we left that world far behind. It’s not that I never want to see that place again—I do—it’s just that the one thing I wanted most was time alone with the people I love with no press badgering us. There’s a shit-ton of drama waiting for me when we get home. I’m the sole heir to the Campone empire, marrying into the Ferro family, and I survived the wrath of Vic Jr. One of those things would make me the talk of every paper and television show—but all three? That threw me into a frenzied media limelight. Constance shielded me as much as possible, but whenever we left the building, there were reporters in tow.
As more information came to light, it intensified. An increasing number of disturbing incidents involving my biological brother surfaced. Let’s just say I’m glad I went mental that night and fought like it was the end. If I hadn’t, if Vic had captured me instead—I wouldn’t have recovered. His hatred was aimed directly at me. He blamed me for everything. There wasn’t a rational thought left in that man’s mind.
As I sweep my toes through the sand, I wonder if I changed that much. On this island, with no one but Sean, I have time to think. I don’t hide from my thoughts, which made them less turbulent as the days stretched into weeks.
Mom and Constance were here with us at first. Sean suggested escaping for a while, and Constance revealed she had a private island in the South Pacific. She described the house and the beach—said that there was an airstrip big enough to accommodate the jet. It was a chance to have some downtime and escape the tumultuous life that fell on our shoulders.
Mom was the first to agree to it. She lingered inside and at the infinity pool by the house. She did regular Mom things and cooked even though the h
ome was fully staffed. The fridge was magically full of food and Mom prepared a feast that first day there. I think baking offered her some solace and gave her a place to vent her feelings. Just about every dish she made was thoroughly beaten with a meat tenderizer first whether it was needed or not.
Constance was either in the kitchen talking to Mom or on the pool deck. Although she always had a book or magazine in her hands, I rarely saw her reading. She watched the horizon most days, lost in thought. If Constance did that too long, Mom showed up and suggested a diversion. We all have to face our struggles alone, but we heal better together. The day before yesterday, they collected shells to take back to New York. Mom wanted to fill a jar with them. After a couple of weeks, they decided to return to life. Not that they were both fine now, but they’d had enough downtime and were ready to resume some semblance of normalcy. Sean and I lingered, staying behind.
As I approach the cabana, the gauzy curtains billow in the breeze. Sean is stretched out on a teak chaise with a newly acquired waterproof e-reader in one hand and the other tucked behind his head. His dark hair is damp, slicked back from his face. Those sapphire eyes are concealed by smoky sunglasses. A dusting of dark stubble lines his jaw. There’s an empty lounge chair next to him, topped with a fluffy white towel and a book that fell into the ocean one too many times. The pages are wrinkled, and making it appear to be more of an albino bat than a piece of bound literature.
Sean glances up at me. “Good afternoon, Miss Smith.” He puts his tablet on the table between the two chairs, rises and strides toward me. His chest gleams in the midday sun, each muscle well-defined and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. A pair of board shorts cut to mid-thigh cling to his hips in a bright blue that matches the ocean. A smirk curls his lips as he steps toward me and opens his arms.
“You look beautiful today, Mr. Jones.” I step into the space, and close my eyes, basking in the sensation of being in his arms—in this once forbidden spot close to his heart.
