Introduction

"Please, dad, stay with me," I breathlessly whispered, cradling my father's head on my lap.

"I-I..l-ove..." My father sputtered, gagging on his own blood as he attempted to speak.

"Ssshhh," I soothed, blinking back tears.

"I know you love me, but right now, I don't want you to strain. The medics will be here soon." I didn't know who I was trying to convince—my dad or myself. I wasn't stupid; I could see his eyes beginning to close while his face began to pale.

"Muum! What's taking too long?" It was a miracle I could still speak coherently. My mother was pacing frantically, her phone on her ear, trying to get through to the emergency call line. She ran towards us, her stilettos clicking on the wooden floor.

"Help is on the way; the ambulance will be here shortly. Honey, I need you to look at me; don't you close those eyes on me." She knelt beside us, placing the phone on the floor.

"El...iana." He called, spitting blood from his mouth. My mother worked on pressing his bullet wound with my hoodie, trying to slow down the bleeding.

"Papa," I replied, squeezing his right hand with my two hands. I looked straight into his half-open eyes, filled with moisture. He was a strong man, tall and muscular, a stern retired US Navy seal. Yet here he was, struggling to even call me by my name.

"Honey, you need to stop struggling, please. God, they are taking too long." My mother swore, her lips set into a thin line. My father gripped my hands tighter, and then, just like that, he started coughing.

"Father please." I didn't realise I had been holding my breath until my chest burned. I wasn't a child; I knew my father was slowly slipping into nothingness. I could see life draining from his eyes. I turned my head briefly to look at the front door, wishing that the medics would walk in through the door, carrying their stretcher. At that moment, the sound of the ambulance sirens was all I wanted to hear.

"Robert, Robert!" My mother shouted, holding his cheeks as his grip on my hand loosened.

"Nooo!" I screamed, my eyes widening a fraction as my heart lurched into my throat. I couldn't begin to describe the intensity of the piercing pain that ran across my heart as my own father closed his eyes. His coughing ceased, his chest stopped rising, and his hand on mine totally became jelly.

He was gone; my father, Robert Smith, was gone.

I stared at his bloody body for seconds, trying to let it sink. Then, my hands moved on either side of his shoulders, grasping his bloody shirt. I shook him violently, screaming his name over and over again.

"You can't break your promise now." I cried out, hoping that he would just open his eyes.

"You pr-o-mised you wouldn't le-av-e." I forced a shallow breath into my lungs through my constricting trachea.

"Baby, he's gone." My mother pulled me away, making his head come into contact with the floor when my hands were forced to let go.

"Leave me alone!" I elbowed her as she dragged me away. She lost her grip on me, giving me a window to crawl back to my father's bloodied body. I shook him again, kneeling beside him and looking as my tears fell on his chest.

"There's nothing you can do, Ellie; he's no more." I covered my ears because her voice was doing nothing but irritating me. It was too loud for my sensitive ears, and I didn't want to hear the truth. Just then, the door was pushed open. The family doctor ran in, followed by the family lawyer, which was odd. I was expecting tons of medics, uniformed police officers, and detectives. Had my mother lied about having called for an ambulance?

"Mrs. Robert, Eliana." The lawyer greeted, but my eyes didn't dare leave my father's lifeless body.

"I'm sorry, ma'am; I drove here as fast as I could." The doctor's voice had my insides churning with so much rage that I couldn't control.

"You bastard!" I shot to my feet, throwing my petite body at his medium-sized figure. I caught him off guard, making him stumble backward and loosen his grip on his briefcase.

"It's all your fault!" I attempted to throw a punch, but the lawyer, Mr. Stamford, was quick to hold me.

"Baby please." My mother sounded so horrified at my behaviour. I couldn't even understand why she seemed so calm while her husband lay there.

"It's okay; let her vent. She's hurting," the lawyer said sternly, his voice washing over me.

"They shot him; they killed him!" I crumpled to the ground again when Stamford let me go, my shoulders shaking violently.

"Did you see anyone?" I heard the question from afar. It took me back to the very minute my father got shot. I was upstairs in my room, face timing my all-time best friend, Dorian. He had been telling me about some new girl he was sleeping with.

It was a single shot, fired through the kitchen window. It broke the glass, then went right into my father's chest. I couldn't explain how or why someone would want my father dead. He didn't have enemies in our town, maybe outside in other neighbouring towns. But it would have been almost impossible for any of them to get into our estate. The security was always tight; guards went on patrol every few minutes.

"Eliana?" It was Dorian, my best friend; his voice snapped me out of the memory that had taken over my mind. He had driven down to my place to check on me. He must have had the shot over the video call before I dropped the phone and ran downstairs.

"Dory," I whispered, allowing him to pull me into his arms when he knelt in front of me.

"I'm so sorry, Ellie," he soothed, rubbing my back with his warm hands.

"Do you mind taking her with you?" my mother asked Dorian.

"Of course not; this is too much for her to stomach right now." Dorian was already helping me up on my feet as he spoke.

"I'm not leaving!" I threw a fit, wanting to stay close to my father.

"You will if you want them to find out who just killed your father!" my mother shouted back, her chest rising rapidly. She was standing besides the lawyer, directly opposite the kitchen window. Then a second shot rang, the sound almost deafening to my own ears.

It happened so fast—too quickly for anyone to comprehend. One minute my mother was standing, looking at me furiously; the next, she was letting out a blood-curdling scream as she fell to the ground.

She, too, had been shot.