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“I’m sorry, Rob. We’ve… um… got some bad news from back home,” Malcolm stutters. “Your parents… they had an accident.”
Steel balls pile up inside my chest, stopping me from sucking air. The gold chain around my neck feels cold as ice. Was Mom trying to say something to me earlier when I felt it burning? Soon my fingers tingle and my shoulders thicken with tension.
“They were driving in the Imperial Valley, and their car flipped.” Malcolm bows his head in sorrow. “They didn’t make it.”
A quake sweeps the ground beneath me. It’s only because Clay and I are leaning on each other that I’m still standing.
“Was Matty with them?” I ask nervously.
“He was. He’s in the UCLA Children’s Hospital, critical but stable.”
Matty… my precious baby brother. My chest is torn in two as I imagine him sitting in the back seat hugging his beloved teddy, trying to protect himself from the crash. Bjork the bear always travels with him.
“Was Dad speeding, Malc?”
“I don’t know, Rob.”
“Was he speeding?” My tone rises.
“Hey, hey, Rob,” Clay says and holds me. “Come on, we’ve gotta get home.”
Guilt and shame bites at my flesh. So, speed has brought us glory today. Fat Kerry is on his knees, millions went to charity—yet this day has taken away the people that meant the world to me.
3
AMBER-ROSE CANNIZZARO (AMALIA SCIFONI)
Santa Maria, California
Pulling my compact mirror closer, I pout sideways, observing a scar on the left corner of my lips. Three years later, dozens of surgeries under my belt, I still can’t believe it’s the only thing that remains from my nightmare at Lake Geneva—physically, anyway.
After surviving Aidan Rolland, I moved back to my home state of California and finally realized my dream to run my own teddy and doll shop.
With a new name.
With a new face.
I love what my Mama gave me, but what I have now as Amber-Rose is pretty good.
‘Claim your life back,ma chérie.’ It was the last thing that Captain Clara Cloutier, the Geneva policewoman who helped me, said to me before I left. At the time, my face looked no better than a Sunday market patchwork.
The police captain, a survivor of partner abuse herself, put her career on the line to get me a new identity. While Swiss doctors tried their best to stitch me up, she fought her way around and used her connections and persuasion to convince Swiss Immigration and the US Embassy to grant me a new name and passport. Aidan had all my personal belongings and IDs, and my face was so disastrous that it wouldn’t satisfy the biometric requirements. So Clara collected every record of me she could get her hands on to help the authorities reconstruct my identity.
When Clara said she would make sure my ex-boyfriend never touched me again, she did everything she could. She even arranged for a chartered flight to get me out of Switzerland in a covert operation.
Aidan’s yacht was found abandoned at the east end of Lake Geneva that night, and he’s never been seen since. His bank accounts were emptied, his companies were liquidated (although apparently they bore almost no value because of mounting debts). There were signs he was looking for me in Italy, but the trails went cold.
As for the man who rescued me, Clara never told me anything—she said for my own protection. It’s unlikely that I will ever know who he was, but I think of him a lot. I would’ve been dead—or worse, back in Aidan’s arms––if it wasn’t for that man.
Amber-Rose or Amalia, I’m still me, although admittedly I’m more contemplative these days. My face is almost flawless, but the mental scars linger. On a bad day, they surface like there’s another version of me living under my skin, having a different name—the ‘V’ word,victim. I hate it, I fight it, but that version sometimes wins, hauling me back and persisting at trapping me in the past.
I haven’t told anyone about the real truth—not even my therapist, who kept instilling in me that I was a survivor, not a victim. What Aidan did will remain my secret, but surviving isn’t enough for me. Instead, I’m seeking victory.
Setbacks don’t faze me. I’ll keep trying and make the best of what I’ve got. Yes, Lake Geneva has changed me, but I still believe in kindness and caring for others. When life sets me back one step, I use that belief to propel myself forward—even half a step means something, as long as I’m not back to where I started.
My shop, Amber The Mender, is the epitome of who I am, of what I love. I rejuvenate people’s most prized dolls and teddy bears, and sometimes bring them back from the dead in cases where the toys have been too well-loved or simply taken over by age. In my head, I often call my shop The Heart Mender, because sometimes a broken companion, even a toy, can mean a broken heart. Children who know me often call me ‘Ambear’—a little gesture, but a big sign that life is still smiling at me.
The shop used to be an empty outbuilding, part of a fabric and craft shop owned by one of my Mama’s friends. The building has its own entrance, and I was allowed to redecorate it to my heart’s content. Doing everything myself, I had painted it white and polished the concrete floor. The shop front is a cozy space, with its country-style couch and solid oak shelves where my own teddy creation is on display, along with other pre-loved bears and toys. The rest of the building is used as a storeroom and workroom—where I spend most of my time.
