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PROLOGUE
Isabella
“You have to leave that place,” Seraphina’s voice crackles through the phone coated with worry.
She’s my best friend, and we grew up together. She was in a mansion with more rooms than days of the month, and I was a little less wealthy but still wealthy, nonetheless. Despite the gap in our family's wealth, she never flaunted her silver-spoon upbringing. Instead, she'd scuff her designer shoes, playing tag in the mud with me.
She’s down to earth and takes no shit from anybody. She relaxes at home, watching TV or reading a book, and loves shopping as much as the next person, but she’s not doing it to show off her wealth. Seraphina has a keen fashion sense, and she loves clothes.
She's always been this way. Unfazed by the façades and the facelifts. Nor the expectations to primp and parade around like a show pony. She’s always been there for me. My rock when life got hard.
“I know,” I sigh, feeling the familiar knot of disappointment and frustration in my stomach. “It’s just... it’s getting harder each time. Dad’s slipping further away, and I’m always caught in the middle.”
“You can’t keep bailing his ass out of trouble, Isabella,” she insists. “It’s not your burden to carry.”
“Isabella!” Dad shouts from downstairs. I hear the door slam shut and his brisk footsteps as he heads toward his office.
I sigh in agitation. Usually, when he storms into the house like this, it’s because he’s gotten himself into trouble. I come from a wealthy family, and our lives used to be great. Then, my mother died from cancer, and I realized it was my mom who kept everything together.
A knot of disappointment forms in my stomach. It’s a familiar sensation that's been nestled there ever since Mom passed away. My father would rather be out making terrible decisions than be a father to his only child. He's not the man I thought he was, and each day, that realization stings more than the last.
“Is that your dad?” Seraphina asks. “He sounds angry, and I don’t like it.”
I wonder what trouble he's gotten himself into this time. My mind drifts back to a time when I was thrust into a pit of chaos. A vivid image of my father, his hands bandaged and immobilized, flashes before me. I can still hear the roar of his voice when he barged into my room, panic-stricken, admitting he'd squandered away the fortune my mother left us and he owes people money.
His reckless obsession with gambling had finally caught up to him. I shudder, recalling the cold, merciless eyes of the thugs who had broken his fingers as a warning. Their threatening words echoed in my ears, promising a snapped neck if the money wasn't produced within twenty-four hours.
It was the first time I'd been forced to pick up the pieces of his mess. I remember the desperation in my voice as I pleaded with these faceless criminals for more time. The account I had wisely hidden from my father was my secret lifeline.
It wasn't easy to access, but the imminent threat to my father's life had propelled me forward. When I finally managed to unlock the funds, it was a painful relief to find just enough to pay off his debts. The memory of handing over my money to those criminals still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Pulling myself back from the haunting memories, I focus on the present commotion. I can hear his pacing figure, which brings me back to the pressing crisis at hand. It's a pattern, a cycle of chaos and desperation, and now it's spiraling into something far more terrifying.
“He sounds panicked,” I tell Seraphina. “I refuse to bail him out of trouble this time.”
“You can always stay here if you need to. I’ll come by right now and pick you up. I don’t want to see you get hurt,” she says, and I can hear her gathering her things.
I glance towards the door as Dad’s voice booms from below once again, his tone laced with panic and agitation.
“Now, Isabella!” he shouts.
“No, don’t. I have to go,” I say quickly and hang up the phone before I make my way downstairs, each step heavy with a mix of dread and anxiety.
I never thought I’d still live at home at twenty-four. I wanted to go to college, have my own apartment, and have a nice job. Unfortunately, my dad’s life choices derailed my future. Despite all the shitty things he’s done, I can’t leave him. He’s all the family I have left.
“Yes, Dad?” I ask as I walk into his office.
“I’ve really done it this time,” he says as I watch him pace back and forth. “I’ve done something terrible.”
I sigh heavily before stepping closer. “What have you done this time?”
“I stole money from the Blackharts,” he replies as he stops pacing to look at me.
“You stole money from the Blackharts, Dad!” I shriek. “They’re not known for being forgiving.”
They’re a family that truly lives up to their name. Their hearts are as black as can be, stained with the blood of their crimes. It may never have been proven, but no one messes with them for a reason.
Anger crosses his face, and he takes a step closer. “Watch your tone with me, little girl. I don’t need you to tell me who they are.”
