THE PSYCHOTIC MAFIA'S OBSESSION

TESSA

I moved under the sheets and faced the man sleeping peacefully beside me. The man who treated me with care and gentleness. The man who made me feel safe, complete and happy in every way possible.

That man was Andrew Harrison, my fiancé.

He always showed up when he said he would. He remembered my favorite flowers, sent good morning and good night texts, helped me when I was too tired to help myself, while believing every problem could simply be solved with patience and logic.

A smile tugged at my lips as I watched him sleep. In fact, Andrew was everything I adored in a man. The kind you marry without second thought.

And now, we were engaged. My life seemed to be on track. I knew I should have felt lucky. Most days, I truly did. After all, what more does a girl wish for?

With a fiancé who adored me, I worked my dream career, and lived in a quiet neighborhood in Los Angeles, where the loudest thing at night was the sound of I and Andrew making love to each other.

Yet, on other days, I felt disconnected, unsure and strangely unhappy. I still caught myself waiting for the day my past would show up at my door and say he had returned for me.

My first love, Pierre Roman. The boy I promised to wait for. The boy the police dragged away in handcuffs ten years ago while I screamed his name. Then, I was just eleven days shy of turning seventeen.

It made no sense. It probably never would. If he had not shown up all these years, he would not now, especially not when I had moved on and was preparing to start an entirely new phase of my life.

I looked at the ring on my finger and smiled. Ten years was a lifetime. I was done waiting for ghosts.

“It’s as beautiful as the woman wearing it,” Andrew murmured, his eyes only half open.

“Mhm,” I nodded softly, brushing my fingertips against his cheek.

He wrapped an arm over my waist. “I spoke with Father John yesterday concerning our wedding, and he said he'll be available the first week of next month.”

I smiled softly and shifted closer to him before placing a kiss on his lips. “That’s only two weeks away. We could start sending out invitations this week.”

“Yes we should. There’s still a lot we haven’t planned yet but we'll figure it out together,” he said casually and I hugged him.

I lay there some more, in the safety of his arms, fighting my mind from drifting back to old memories I tried so hard to bury.

I had a session later that day. Another commercial. Though it wasn't the glamorous type, it paid. Acting had been my dream since high school and I chased it through tiny theaters, endless auditions, and years of rejection. Now, I am finally getting steady work. Maybe not the celebrity life I once imagined, but close enough.

Later that afternoon, I met my best friend Zara for coffee before my session. She was the opposite of me—loud, dramatic and always overdressed.

“Are you okay? You look like you're pretending to be fine,” she asked as we slid into a booth in the restaurant we were at.

“I’m fine, Zee.” I said giving her an assuring smile as I scanned through the menu.

“Has he said anything about the wedding?”

“Yeah. First week of next month. I'm so tensed.” I laughed.

“Don't worry. It's normal.”

She called a waiter and we placed our meal order.

Her gaze lingered on me for a beat. “Are you happy, Tess?” Zara asked me with a worried look on her face and I nodded, finding her question a little too odd to answer.

“Don’t mean to be a kill joy but… do you still think about him?”

I didn’t even have to ask who ‘him’ was to know she was talking about Pierre.

“Sometimes, but I haven't heard anything about him. For all we know he could still be in jail or dead.” I admitted, hoping she would drop the topic at that.

Zara studied me for a long moment. “And if he isn’t?”

I shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter. We’re probably different people now, and besides, I've moved on.”

Zara didn't say anything.

I knew she had my best interest at heart. Zee was the only person I turned to after losing him.

Pierre had always been misunderstood by his own family and I was the only person that had his back. But that night of his arrest, I felt hurt. I watched my baby weep bitterly, pleading innocent from a crime he claimed to not have committed. I watched him beg and call on the people he thought he had, me inclusive, but I was just sixteen. There wasn't much I could do.

Work went smoothly. It was a small commercial gig for *toothpaste* of all things. The director complimented my smile, and I forced myself not to roll my eyes.

By the time I left the studio, dusk had settled over the city, washing the streets in amber light. I decided to walk a distance home before taking a cab, loving the hum of traffic and chatter. Los Angeles could be cruel, but it also felt alive in a way no other place did.

My phone vibrated in my coat pocket. It was a text message from Andrew - Finished making dinner. You'll love it. See you soon wifey :)

Wasn't he the sweetest? I smiled, then texted a reply - On my way, love!

Still walking, I turned into a quiet alley I often used as a shortcut, when suddenly, two black SUVs pulled up. One in front of me and the other behind. I stopped in my tracks, fear washing over me.

Four men in black stepped out of the vehicle in front of me and walked toward me with slow, confident strides.

I took a few steps back, hitting the muscular build of one of the other four behind me.

A cloth bag came down over my head so quickly that I barely had time to scream.

Then nothing but darkness.