TRAPPED WITH THE MAFIA BOSS
My hand digs into my pocket—Serena’s note, crumpled, stained with Mama’s blood; its words sear me, a truth I ache to spill but can’t.
I grip it hard—nails biting skin—wanting to confess: Elena, not Serena, the twin who came for revenge, stayed for love.
Fear locks me still; my other hand grazes my belly—a flutter stirs, faint, alive, another child in this wreckage—and it’s a whisper to hold on, to endure.
JJ calms, snuffling into my shoulder, and I carry him to the nursery—walls soft with painted moons, crib a nest of tangled quilts—laying him down, brushing his hair.
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