3. The Family I ran from

~Two weeks later~

The drive from the airport back home was done in absolute silence.

After calling Cicero, I don't know how he did it. But some men broke into my home to save me in less than fifteen minutes.

Pius left me there and must have gone off to rack up more debts with the money he withdrew from my cards as his backup.

The men who saved me took me to the hospital, where I spent two whole weeks.

Cicero flew in the next day and stayed with me until I got discharged.

Then he bundled me into the plane and brought me back home. All the while, Pius didn't bother to call.

It made me wonder if he was wasted somewhere or if Cicero had gotten to him. If the latter were to be the case, then he would probably be dead by now.

As we drive away from the Mayhaven airport, heading back home. I sit crunched to the farthest part of the limo while stealing glances at Cicero.

Tired of the silence, I clear my throat and ask him. "Did you see Pius?"

He turns to me with a frown. "If I did, you know what would have happened to him."

Yeah, of course, I know.

I let out a breath, thanking God that the man is still alive, at least.

But I need no telling that he'll be a dead man soon. If Cicero's men don't murder him, then Papa Ben's men will.

You see, the thing about the father and son is that one is as dangerous as the other, and they don't joke with family.

When my mother left Papa Ben for a younger boy called Damian, I was shocked that Papa Ben let her go.

But when she ended up dead in a stripper club, the Damian boy died barely two hours after we got the news.

No one said a word, but I can swear on my life that Papa Ben's men killed the boy.

Same as the one time I got robbed at college by three masked boys. Cicero heard about it, and the next day, three dead bodies were discovered by the campus security post with their masks attached to their bodies.

Barely a day later, I got everything they stole from me sent to me via mail–that was Cicero and his men.

Papa Ben and his son are low-key gangsters. But the older man masks it well enough with his endless chains of legitimate businesses and charity works, while his son masks his with his career as a professional hockey star.

Incredible!

We don't exchange any other words until we get home and join Papa Ben in the dining room for dinner.

"How do you feel?" Papa Ben, my stepfather, asks me.

Left for me, I won't call the man my stepfather. He married my mom, yes. But they always seemed distant.

He never went out with her, nor did I ever catch them exchanging kisses. He was more respectful to her than loving.

So, I wasn't surprised when my mother left him for a younger guy. My mom doesn't just like money a lot; she also craves the fast life like a drug.

Parties, nightlife, fashion shows, designer shopping, destination vacations, strippers' den, cougar parties...

I recall those days as a young kid, when she'd tell me it was better to marry for money and comfort than for love because, according to her, money is love.

Maybe she was saying those words to me because they made her feel better.

But those times, I believed her. So much so that when she kept getting battered by my father, I thought it was normal. Besides, she had access to the money and comfort.

Worst still, she never left. He'd beat her to a pulp today, and the next day, she'd go on a designer's shopping spree. And when her wounds get better, she'll take the private jet to Ibiza to party with her fellow billionaire housewives.

That was her life, and she loved it, telling me it was the best sort of life for a woman.

She continued her 'one slap to a black card' lifestyle until her dear husband caught her cheating and asked for a divorce, leaving her penniless.

"Jane?" Papa Ben calls again. I groan, holding my head.

"I'm fine, thank you, Papa."

He nods and scoops some food into my plate before pushing it to me. Cicero is seated opposite me, busy with his food, ignoring us.

"It's good to have you back home," Papa tells me. "It feels just like old times again."

It sure doesn't feel like old times to me. At least my mother isn't seated at the other end of the table, heavily made up and stylishly dressed.

"Thank you so much for having me here."

"Of course," Papa replies with a frown. "As long as I know, this is your home and will always be."

Shaking my head, I twitch my lips in an uneasy smile. "I'll be out of your hair by tomorrow, I swear it."

"And where do you plan on going?" Cicero asks, giving me those frightful, gorgeous eyes of his.

I take a sip of water and think of an answer to that question. That is when I realized that I have nowhere else to go.

My father doesn’t want me in his life. My only home is here, with Papa Ben and Cicero.

This place is my only refuge for now because I can’t leave. I'm penniless as it is.

Cicero laughs, shaking his head. "I thought as much."

"Maybe I'll go back home. Pius should be sober now, and we'll work things out. Marriage isn't always a bed of roses."

Besides, my father used to hit my mother, and she didn't die. If not for the fact that she was caught cheating, she would have still been with him.

My case will be different.

Both men turn to me like I’m insane.

"You're not going back to that man." Papa insists.

"Papa, you can't tell me what to do, you're not my mom." I shoot at him, frustratingly.

"Let her go." Cicero chuckles. "She'll meet his corpse. I'll make sure of that"

"You will do no such thing!"

"Wanna bet?" He asks, wearing a cocky grin.

"Ci," Papa calls. "Take it easy on your sister."

"He's not my f*ckin brother!" I snap.

"Fair enough," Papa murmurs, then he shakes his head and sighs.

I bet he’s re-living the times I'd have a series of arguments with Cicero and all those tantrums and hot-headedness.

"You can work with Cicero's team if you wish to, Jane. At least, until all of this blows over. The Islanders team is very big, and Cicero is popular. You're good with photography, and working in his team will give your CV a boost. Salary should be good."

"I don't need her in my goddamn team; she doesn't qualify."

"I would rather chew grass than be a part of your team," I shoot back at him.

"So be it," Cicero replies and storms out of the room. He suddenly halts in his steps. "I'll send you a cute picture of your late husband soon."

"My late what... Cicero!"

"Ci," Papa calls, but his son flashes us a cocky grin and walks away.

Papa shakes his head, pushing his breakfast down his throat while staring pitifully at me.

The thing is, Papa doesn't have to say a word to me.

We both know that he's as bad as his son.