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“I will tell you everything, I promise.”
My head throbs with all this new information, and I ask in a small voice, “Where have you been all my life?”
“I had to do what I had to do to ensure no one would ever hurt you. People like your father.”
“My father?”
“Your father has other plans for you, and I won’t let him get his way,” he snarls. Even this stranger who says he is my uncle knows of my father’s hate toward me.
It’s not like I have any illusion of my father loving me. He’s never come to visit in all the years I’ve been here.
The stranger puts a phone in my hand and says, “Take this so you can reach me. I promise everything will be all right. You’re not alone. I will always be there for you. I won’t let him harm you like he did them.”
What does he mean? I open my mouth to ask him, but he says, “Tomorrow. For your safety, keep my identity to yourself until I can tell you the whole story.” I walk away with more questions than answers. At the foot of the stairs, I glance over my shoulder, and he’s still smiling at me. I feel his comforting gaze on me until I step inside.
This is crazy.
I enter the dining hall and spot Chiara, seated at one of the three long tables spanning the room. Automatically, I take the seat next to her, lost in the fog of my mind.
Chiara flicks her fingers in front of me. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
I shake off my stupor and take a few spoonfuls of soup when she adds, “You’re scaring me. What did she say?”
“Later,” I mouth, and we finish eating. After half an hour, we are excused. The moment Chiara closes the door to our room, I say, “I met my uncle.”
Her green eyes set on me in incredulity. “But you don’t have any uncles.”
“That’s what I thought. He said I was in danger.”
She paces around before sitting cross-legged on our dorm room floor.
“Hayden told me I should pack a bag because he’s picking me up tomorrow.”
“What if he’s right and you are in danger?”
“My brother will protect me.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
“I should throw it away.” The phone—a.k.a. Pandora’s Box—glares at me from where it resides.
“No, you’re going to keep it. Every ally is good.”
“We’re not in a war, Chiara.”
“But we will be starting tomorrow.”
After we shower, we get ready for bed. We both lie on our sides, facing each other.
“I will miss you. Whatever it takes, we’re going to stay friends.”
“Are you afraid?” It must be terrifying knowing she will soon become a mob boss’s wife.
“I’m not going to let anyone dictate my life.”
“Be brave, but not stupid.”
“I hope we can see each other soon. They can’t watch over me twenty-four hours a day. I will find a way. Maybe I’ll come up with a plan and we’ll go somewhere, just the two of us, and start a life we want to live.” This reckless attitude landed her here, but I would have never met my “person” if she weren’t exactly who she was.
