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The article beneath spins a narrative of forbidden romance, suggesting a twisted infatuation with the man who allegedly murdered my father.
"Victim or conspirator?" one subheading taunts, posing a question meant to inflame the public's imagination, and then there is more . . . much, much more, scattered across the newspaper: Love Thy Neighbor; Roommates or Rivals; BeyondGrudges; Turn the other cheek; Forgive and forget; Stockholm Syndrome . . . on and on it goes, there’s no end to it.
They describe my visits as clandestine meetings, hinting at secret affairs and morbid betrayal.
"Where's the justice? Where's the loyalty?" they ask rhetorically, expecting no answers, words designed to stoke the fires of indignation and gossip.
"Shocking turn" and "family tragedy" pepper the paragraphs, crafting a story far removed from the truth—a truth I am desperate to shout at the hilltops, but Liam won’t let me.How can he be so okay with letting the world think that he is a murderer when he is not?
My picture is everywhere, my face plastered on almost every social media platform, nameless, faceless strangers calling for justice as if they have a need to avenge my father more than me.
I need a place to hide.
Chapter forty-six
TANGLED EMOTIONS.
TONY
It was just a matter of time before this was to happen. My laptop screen flickers to life, revealing the tense faces of my siblings. Dick's jaw is set, eyes like flint, Jenny's mouth is a thin line, arms crossed tightly over her chest, and there is Lola, looking so vulnerable and lost, clutching a crumpled newspaper.
"Tony," Dick starts, his voice raw and harsh, "What the hell is this?"
"Looks like you've been busy," Jenny sneers, waving her own copy of the paper at the camera. The headline glares back at me from her screen, a nasty echo of the one clutched in Lola's hands.
"Guys,” I start, then stop, unsure where to start.Maybe we should start with prayer. . . “It's not what it looks—"
"Save it!" Dick cuts me off. "You are shacking up with the bastard who killed Dad! Is that where you’ve been all this time? Lola’s been trying to reach you."
Jenny jumps in, her words laced with venom. "How much shame do you feel would be enough, Tony. When it comes to Liam, how much shame would be enough."
"Please, listen to me," I plead, but it's like trying to calm a storm.
"Listen? To WHAT?" Dick's face reddens. "I don’t want to hear it. You're nothing but a damned traitor! Mom and Dad would be ashamed of you."
"Enough, Dick!" I can't keep the desperation out of my voice. "There's more going on here than you know."
"You don’t say . . . more important than our father's memory? More important than your family?" Jenny's voice cracks, but her anger doesn't waver.
"Tony . . . " It's Lola's turn, her voice barely above a whisper. "How could you? He killed Dad.”
"Lols, please," My throat tightens. "If you give me just a little more time, I’ll explain; I just can’t right now, but trust me—"
"Stop!" Dick roars. "I don't want to hear your excuses. You're dead to me; you're dead to us, do you understand? Dead!"
"Dick, that's enough!" Jenny's outburst silences him, though her glare remains fixed on me. "We're done here, Tony. Don't contact us again."
"Jenny, no, you have to believe—" But it's too late. I suppose she is the one who created the Zoom link, and she’s ended the call. Their faces have vanished, and with it, my heart.
The silence left behind is deafening. Lola never said goodbye; her disappointment was her final word, cutting deeper than any of Dick's curses or Jenny's accusations.
Staring at the blank screen, I sit alone, bearing the full weight of my family's judgment. They don't understand, but how can they. I have the truth that will set them free, and I can’t share it with them.
They are angry and heartbroken. I will find a way to lessen their pain, even if they never welcome me back into the fold.
Following a mad case of temporary insanity, I decide to try one last crack at my brother. He is technically the head of our household and, as such, the leader of the Ricardo pack. The only way through to our entire family is solely through him. I get him to see the light; I get my family back.
I will be going to Texas on Sunday and back to school. I want to try and set things straight with my family before I go, though. There is nothing more for me to do here in Miami. My cover is blown, so I cannot help with the investigation anymore, and who knows what the evil Dexters are thinking, now that they know that I might be in contact with Liam . . . unless I can convince them that I was just squatting in Liam’s house illegally. Would they buy it? Would anyone?
