Chapter 005

“Wow, Mammy! I’m excited to see what’s inside… I think it’s a car!” Angelo squealed with his usual lisp. I laughed at his clear joy and excitement.

“Let’s get inside quickly, you’ll see it then. It’s too cold out here,” I said, nudging him forward with my hands full of small boxes while he insisted on carrying the large gift box himself.

It was nearly larger than his size, and he almost stumbled under its weight.

I frowned as I stared at the small, motorized car which now parked in the middle of my living room. Its cost was obviously too high and I doubted Teresa could afford it.

I called her immediately. When I asked, she laughed and I could sense the grin on her face as she said, “I figured it might be a secret admirer. He insisted I not tell you anything unless you asked, after you’d taken the gift home.”

I swallowed hard, clutching the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. It was the exact model Angelo had wanted for his birthday. I couldn’t find it—it was only available by special orders.

“I can confirm your admirer is very handsome though. He’s tall, well-built… like a dream prince,” Teresa said with enthusiasm and clear admiration.

For some reason, Marco’s face flashed in my mind.

I ran to the window overlooking the street, feeling watched. I pulled the curtain slightly aside. And there it was—a luxury Lamborghini parked outside my building.

Its presence was completely out of place in this humble neighborhood of practical cars.

I squinted, trying to see who was inside. When the headlights flashed on and off several times, I realized; The driver was sending a message: Yes, I’m watching you.

I took a step back, my heart pounding violently in my chest.

Oh my God. We were being watched for real.

Then, I remembered what Angelo said about a man watching him earlier this day. I turned toward my son as he was playing with his new car.

“Gilo,” I began, trying to make my voice calm. “Do you remember what you told me this morning? About a man who’s always there before I pick you up from school?”

He looked up at me but quickly returned to his toy.

I rushed to him and picked him up from the floor—despite his slight resistance, not wanting to leave the car—and carried him toward the window.

“Is that the car he comes in?”

I was already reaching for my phone, ready to call the police.

“What car, mom? I don’t see anything!”

I lifted my gaze from my phone screen and looked through the window—nothing. I scanned the street. Nothing.

I was sure we were being watched. But by whom, and why?

Could it be that monster—the rapist—had found out about Angelo and came to cover up his crime?

I jumped at the sound of the doorbell.

I didn’t know why I felt scared to open it. But the continuous ringing pushed me to walk toward the door, debating whether or not to call the police. But what if it was just the delivery guy? Or a neighbor?

God. Why didn’t I install a peephole or a security camera?

With a shaky voice, I asked after I cleared my throat, “Who is it?”

“Food delivery.” A male voice came.

I exhaled in relief, my heartbeat slowing back to normal. I should have known it was him, I ordered pizza half an hour ago.

I opened the door with my usual smile—but it quickly vanished the moment my eyes landed on the two men standing behind the delivery guy, leaning against the opposite wall.

Luca and Marco.

My heart skipped a beat. I felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room—no, out of the entire house—the moment the door closed behind the delivery guy, who practically ran off, escaping the deadly glares from both Luca and Marco.

Instinctively, I took a protectivly step toward Angelo, placed my trembling hand on his head, and said, “Why don’t you go try out your new toys in your room while Mommy talks with her friends for a little bit?”

Angelo lifted his gaze from his toys for the first time, frowned slightly, then pointed toward Marco and said, “That’s the one I told you about, Mommy. Is he my dad?”

“No,” I said firmly. “Now go to your room, and don’t come out until I ask you to.”

My voice came out sharp, sharper than Angelo had ever heard from me.

Their dangerous, dark aura was palpable that made my flesh and bones shake, but it seemed it didn't affect Angelo because he was glued to his place staring at them.

“Did you like the car I got you?” Marco crouched down to Angelo’s level. “How about we go to your room, and I show you how to play with it?”

I understood very well what Marco was trying to do, he was giving Luca a space to speak with me alone. But I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to be left alone with him. Not Luca. Never.

I even avoided looking at his eyes since he entered my apartment.

Still, when Angelo looked at me, I smiled reassuringly, silently encouraging him to let Marco show him how to play.

“Go buddy!” I pushed him slightly.

I knew I had no chance to choose or refuse. So, instead of drawning in fear, I’ll not show them any trace of weakness. Not again.

An infuriating silence fell over the room the moment Angelo and Marco stepped inside the other room.

Despite the tension and my impatience to know why they were here, I didn’t say a single word. I refused to show any interest whatsoever.

Finally our gazes collided and Luca’s gaze burned into my eyes, but I refused to look away. I wouldn’t be the one to break eye contact. They needed to know—I wasn’t the same girl anymore. I wasn’t weak.

‘Mila you once knew died four years ago, Luca,’ I said through our eyes contact.

A cloud of cigarette smoke drifted between us, yet our eyes stayed locked in a silent conversation. One I refused to interpret. A blame I refused to accept. A coldness I refused to feel.

Since when did Luca start smoking?

Eventually, he was the one who broke both the silence and the stare, turning toward the window as he muttered, “You disgust me.”

“Then leave! You're not welcome here,” I replied coolly and walked straight to the door, flinging it open wide.

He narrowed his eyes as he walked toward the door, a sarcastic smirk playing on his lips. With his towering frame, he stood in front of me and slammed the door shut with the heel of his sneaker, yanking my hair back with one hand.