Chapter 1 - HOMECOMING

CALISTA

I shouldn't have come back so soon.

And of course Eleanor had to ruin every ounce of calm I might have scraped together.

“I assume that you will be on time, dinner is going to be special and I insist that you observe protocol.”

Protocol.

That is all she ever cared about. I had been stuck on that plane, and held at gunpoint because some criminal decided to board first class with marijuana in his pocket. It was luck that the authorities had handled the situation, eventually.

“I'm not coming home.”

I could hear the clicking of a keyboard on her end.

“Pardon? What did you say?”

I rolled my eyes and handed a twenty dollar bill to the uber driver.

“You heard me. I plan on staying at Sera’s till I'm able to get my own apartment.”

The clicking came to a pause.

“Since when?”

I glued my phone to my ear using my shoulder blade as assistance while I hurled my suitcases onto the pavement.

“Don't sound like I haven't mentioned it before. I just experienced the most anxiety filled flight of my life, I don't have the energy for this, Eleanor.”

“It's mother to you, young lady.”

“Whatever. The point is, I've mentioned this to you before.”

I dragged my suitcases along the blocks of houses, they were just as I remembered. Sera's house was down the street.

“And I clearly remember disagreeing. Why are you running away from home?”

Not this again.

“Newsflash, mother. I am a twenty-year old adult who can make her own decisions. I've always been making them, so quit it and stop acting like it matters.” Like I matter. “And about me running away from home ? Who in their right mind wouldn't?”

“Calista…”

“No. What you did is far from normal. Out of all the men in the world that would happily wed, or be your slave for the rest of their lives, you decided to put a mafia's ring on your finger. A mafia, an actual leader of a criminal syndicate…”

How was I the only one seeing how crazy what she did was?

Taking vows with the head of a Russian mafia?

Making him my step-father?

Mikhail was the definition of insanity and wicked precision. But somehow mommy dearest expected us to magically get along.

“Calista…we've been through this. Mikhail is actually not a bad guy.”

“Is he a good guy then?” I mocked, knowing she wouldn't have an answer for that.

“The world isn't simply black and white. I raised you to know this.”

I sighted Sera's house from a distance.

“Point of correction, I was raised by the house staff. Have a lovely day.”

I hung up and switched on airplane mode.

Maybe her world wasn't black and white, but mine was.

Enough about Eleanor, and her criminal Russian husband. I had a best friend I hadn't seen in years waiting for me behind this door with loads of blueberry creme pie and gossip. Lots of gossip. Seraphine was wired like that.

I grinned and knocked on the wooden door, she had this cute accessory hanging up that rang a bell whenever someone toggled the handle, and I did just that.

Wait…

The door was locked?

I pulled on the knob and indeed it had been locked from the outside. But just an hour ago she was waiting to receive me.

I turned off airplane mode and tapped on her contact. It was pinned on my favorites so I didn't need to scroll.

It was switched off.

I tried again.

“Where could she be?”

I was thirsty, hungry, and famished…

Waiting outside like this was pressing all my angry spots.

Perhaps she was in the garden at the back?

I left my suitcases on the porch and went out back.

“Sera?”

I couldn't hear the sound of her hum. She always hummed when she was attending to plants, she swore that it motivated them to grow better.

But I did hear footsteps. Just not Sera's.

“Miss Nortelli?”

The elderly woman looked up from the cucumber she was harvesting.

“You saw nothing!”

I scrunched up my nose.

“This is theft, Miss Nortelli, you didn't plant these.”

She laughed whimsically and continued digging her shears in the soil.

“Your pig-tailed friend did borrow my watering can though.”

So after all this years she was still a b*tch.

“So because she borrowed your watering can you steal her cucumbers?”

“Hmm. It is fair I have a taste of the output.”

Yeah. Definitely still a b*tch.

“Whatever Mrs Nortelli. Have you seen Sera? Her door is locked.”

“Uh…about thirty to thirty five minutes ago she received a call and left.”

Left?

“Where?”

She rolled her eyes and continued cutting at the cucumber.

“I don't know girl, it's not like I'm a witch or something.”

You are.

I sighed and turned around.

I couldn't wait outside on her porch, the heat of the summer sun would roast me alive.

Nice one Sera.

I guess I was going home after all.

___________

I paid for another Uber.

The streets between Sera’s place and the estate were lined with corner kiosks and vending carts, filled with bottled drinks and packaged snacks. I was hungry, I was thirsty. I could have grabbed something without thinking. But I wanted something homemade and warm.

I wanted Sera’s pie.

She was probably dealing with an emergency.

I would go home, settle in, and leave again as soon as I reached her. Eleanor rarely came back early. With any luck, I would be gone before she returned.

The Uber slowed in front of the estate gates.

It was single-lot property, no neighboring houses and just a large ground space. Eleanor’s mansion had never felt like home. It rather felt like a museum.

What I did notice though was that the security detail was different. The tattoos on their necks and the way they stood told me enough.

They were Mikhail’s men.

I disliked them immediately.

Inside, the estate looked... different. Eleanor had renovated again. She had a thing for doing that every two years.

One man moved to take my luggage and I shook my head.

“Don't bother. I am not staying long.”

I dragged my bags into the living room and left them by the wall.

The house was oddly silent.

"Where is everyone...?" I wondered.

Well maybe they were in the staff quarters or something.

I was about to walk past the dining area to the kitchen but I noticed the abandoned food.

Cake, cinnamon rolls. Butter milk, and last but not least...a smoking hot piece of lasagna.

I did not ask who owned it or didn't. The temptation was too good for me not to grab a fork.

"It does look like the person had enough..."

You shouldn't eat someone else's food, Calista.

But it smelt so good.

Maybe I'll have a bite.

No.

Just one....

What was the worst that could happen?

I was about to reach for a fork nearby when I heard a very violent thud.

What the hell was that?