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Prologue
CALI
Using a headband to keep my long, dark hair back from my face, I stared into my mirror. The LED lights surrounding the rectangular glass showed me a sight I was expecting, but I still hated. The bruise along the left side of my jaw would take some extra contouring to disguise, but I’d become a pro at hiding the proof of what a nightmare my home had turned into.
My gaze flickered to my camera that was positioned to record my makeup tutorials, but I would have to wait until I’d covered the bruise before I could hit record. If I didn’t hide the evidence of Manuel’s latest beating and it got back to my stepfather, the next time my stepbrother got his hands on me would most likely be the last.
Covering up the injury hurt and was especially hard when I had a little swelling. But it wasn’t the first time I’d had to hide the hate that was inflicted upon me. The beatings had been coming more frequently, each one more brutal than the last. I’d made the mistake of trying to ask for help from Matias, my beloved stepfather, once and quickly learned my lesson.
My stepfather had slapped Manuel in front of all their men when I confessed that my stepbrother had used me as a human punching bag one night. Matias had left for the States on business directly after, thinking that would be the end of it. He was gone for two weeks.
Just enough time for me to be able to walk upright again when he returned.
The house I’d grown up in since my mother married Matias when I was five had slowly become my prison over the years. It had been a gradual process, starting with just slaps when my mom first got sick and Matias was always away with her at the hospital. Then she died, and Matias started hiding his pain at the loss of his wife in work. The slaps had turned into punches, and those punches had become full-on beatings in the past year.
That was why I’d started the makeup tutorial videos on social media. At first, it was just in hopes of getting a sponsor or two that would pay me to use their products. But I’d gotten lucky by gaining over two million followers within a few short months. I had nearly a dozen sponsors and my own money coming in.
Money I planned on using to get as far away from the Ramirez family as soon as I had enough saved to rent an apartment in the States.
I would miss Matias, but missing him didn’t outweigh the survival instinct screaming at me that I needed to get far away from this place—fast.
The eye makeup recording I did after my foundation was in place didn’t even need editing, so I posted it before reading through some of the comments on the video I’d posted the day before. I didn’t just do videos of getting ready in the morning. I liked to play around, turn my face into that of one of the celebrities I admired. My love of art had come in handy, and the majority of my following had been accumulated because of my ability to transform myself into nearly anyone.
There were over three thousand comments on the video from the day before, which would make my sponsors happy. It would have made me smile if my jaw weren’t hurting so badly, despite the anti-inflammatory pain medication I’d taken when I’d first gotten out of bed that morning.
After flipping through the comments, liking a few as I went, my attention was snagged by the picture of one of the commenters. Hot guys left me messages on my posts and in my DMs all the time, but I’d learned to ignore them for the most part. For one, many of them were a good twenty years older than I was. For another, they usually just wanted me to sext them and send them nudes.
Typically, I just scrolled on by the guys in the feed, but for some reason, my finger lingered on his picture before clicking on it so I could have a better look. Blond hair cut short and styled in that slightly unkempt way that most guys favored. His green eyes glared into the camera. I traced my index fingernail over his strong jaw and his naturally pouty bottom lip. I had no way of telling how tall he was, but I found myself imagining him towering over my five-four.
My heart gave a little flutter, and I let myself fantasize that this guy, this Garret Hannigan—if that was his real name—would storm the gates surrounding the Ramirez mansion and sweep me up into his arms. That he would take me away from the nightmare of this dreadful place. He would protect me from Manuel.
I would be safe.
Maybe even loved?
Then my finger accidentally exited out of the blown-up version of his profile picture, and I saw what he’d posted.
The fantasy I’d been building in my head only moments before turned to smoke, and I felt bile rise into my throat as I read the vile things he was going to do to me. Inhaling slowly, I read the long comment, taking all of it in.
Garret Hannigan had a reason to hate my stepfamily, if he was to be believed. Matias had sent someone to kill his little sister, a girl who was important to the Vitucci crime family. That name was very familiar to me. I’d heard it many times. When a member of the family would come to Bogotá for business, I would have to stay in my room the entire time they were visiting, but Manuel often ranted about them.
Mostly about Ryan Vitucci.
My stepbrother particularly hated Ryan, whom I’d seen pictures of online. It was no wonder Manuel disliked him so much. With just a glance at the young Italian American, it was easy to tell that Ryan was everything Manuel wished he could be. Smart, incredibly handsome, and, above all else, competent.
Manuel was an idiot. He was Matias’s heir, but my stepfather was already in despair of leaving his life’s work to his son. Everything he’d worked so hard for would be gone before the dirt even settled on his grave if Manuel was left the Ramirez businesses and fortune once Matias died.
Feeling sick, I started to close my social media app when a notification for a DM popped up. Needing something to take my mind off what I’d just read—even if it was a dick pic from some random guy—I clicked on the message icon.
Nova: After seeing the comment my idiot, disgusting brother left you, I attempted to beat some sense into him for you and the greater good of the female population. If it doesn’t work, I’ll continue to do so until he pulls his head out of his ass.
For some reason, despite the pain in my jaw, I found myself smiling.
Me: Don’t worry about it. I get crap like that from guys all the time. I’m not scared of some punk in another country who thinks he can get to my stepdad through me. I have other things to worry about than what some nobody like your brother fantasizes about doing to me. He’s just pissed he doesn’t stand a chance with me.
After I hit send, I closed the app and stood, trying to forget the feeling I’d first experienced when I saw Garret’s picture. The sickness swirling around in my stomach continued to linger, but not as strongly after Nova’s message.
Neither of the Hannigan siblings was what I should have been worried about. Not when I opened my bedroom door and found a seething Manuel standing there.
