CHAPTER I

NOW | AGE 21

I strode past the front school’s entrance, and my best friend Kara fell into step beside me with her usual enthusiasm. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you,” Kara pointed out.

I raised an eyebrow, already wary of the mischief that danced in her blue eyes. “What kind of trouble are you trying to get us into now, Kara?”

She gave me an innocent smile, like a child caught red-handed with their mother’s makeup bag, cheeks smudged with lipstick and glitter. “Oh, nothing serious. I was just wondering if you could be my wingwoman for tomorrow night.”

I snorted and shook my head, rummaging through my book bag, searching before triumphantly pulling out a Butterfinger. I’d take anything to satisfy my sugar craving—gummy bears, chocolate bars, anything that would fuel my sugar addiction.

“You know how I feel about being your wingwoman after the last disaster you dragged me into,” I reminded her.

The memory of the man who was friends with the guy Kara liked still haunted me. I shuddered as I recalled the details that plagued me like a bad horror movie. The guy shocked the crap out of me when he discussed how he would “ruin me” in graphic detail. And then he pulled out a butt plug as if it was a magic trick.

“Come on, Gigi, pleeeease be my wingwoman tomorrow night!” Kara’s voice was a melodic plea, and her eyes were wide with hope.

I nonchalantly unwrapped my candy bar and took a bite, savoring the chocolatey crunch.

Kara pouted, her lower lip jutting out in an almost comical way. “Gigi, this time will be different. I promise.”

I chuckled at her puppy-dog expression.

God, I really needed to get a boyfriend so Kara could stop using me as a crutch in her love life.

We approached Kara’s sleek red sedan and settled into the black leather seats. The car roared to life, and she maneuvered out of the lot. As we merged into traffic, she turned to me, her lips curving into a gentle smile that lit up her face.

“I know I messed up last time,” she said, “but the person I’m meeting tonight has a friend who I think will be perfect for you.”

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Perfect for me, huh? I highly doubt that, Kara.

There’s no such thing as a perfect guy.”

“Trust me, Gigi. I swear, it’ll be different! No weirdos with a butt plug fetish.” She shuddered before continuing. “Just a tall and handsome law student who’s a musician just like you!”

I smirked, taking another bite of my candy bar. “Oh great, a tall, handsome music lover. Just what I’ve always dreamed of,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I mean, come on. I was a violin player, not Taylor Swift.

Kara poked my side playfully. “Stop being so cynical! You never know, this could be the start of something amazing,” she sang, her voice teasingly hopeful.

“Yeah, the start of another disastrous blind date. Can’t wait,” I replied. I couldn’t shake this feeling that I was somehow cursed when it came to dating. I couldn’t see myself with any of the guys I met, and it was exhausting. I kept telling myself there had to be someone out there who could truly see me and understand my passion for music. I craved that kind of connection, the kind where we could play music together that intertwined our souls.

Instead, I had found myself stuck in this never-ending loop, watching my friends connect while wondering what the hell was wrong with me. It’s not that I was expecting some fairy-tale ending or Prince Charming. I wanted someone with a little darkness and a bit of an edge to balance out my annoying innocence. I wanted to feel like I was not just another face in the crowd or a meaningless one-night stand but someone worth knowing. I didn’t think that person even existed, but if he did, where the hell was he?

On the way to my parents’ house, Kara continued to paint a rosy picture of the mystery guy she had lined up for me. Despite my initial reluctance, I found myself giving in. Finally, I sighed and said, “All right, fiiinnne.”

Kara beamed. “You’re the best, Gigi! You won’t regret it, I promise.”

I gave her a skeptical look, but a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see about that.”

A chaotic scene greeted us when we turned into my neighborhood. Several cars blocked the road, and police cars were scattered everywhere.

“Whoa, what happened here?” Kara leaned forward over the steering wheel, her brow furrowing. “Looks like there’s an accident or something.”

“I don’t think we’re going to get through this anytime soon,” I said as I glanced at my phone.

“You know what,” I began, unbuckling my seatbelt, “it’s not too far to walk. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Kara said, looking between me and the accident in front of us.

“Yeah, very sure,” I assured her with a nod.

Kara leaned over the console and pulled me into a tight hug. “Okay. But seriously, thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best, Gigi.”

I chuckled. “Just remember, you owe me big time for this. And I mean big time,” I said, pulling out my earbuds and setting up my playlist. “I’m talking a twenty-pack of chocolate bars. And not those tiny, fun-size ones, either. I want the king-size.”

Kara laughed. “I’ll make it up to you. Tomorrow night is going to be epic, mark my words.”

I waved goodbye and began walking to my house with a half-eaten candy bar dangling from my mouth. I plugged in my earbuds, turned on “Birds of a Feather” by Billie Ellish, and enjoyed the sun’s warm rays on my face.

When I approached my neighborhood, I tucked the candy wrapper into my pocket and decided to take the shortcut to avoid running into Mrs. Willowbee. She loved those damn Ketchup chips and would always shove them in my face. And then there were the freaking gnomes she would talk to. They were lined up perfectly on her front lawn. Each one stared at me with creepy little smiles, their chipped-painted eyes seeming to follow my every move.

Reaching our yard’s wooden fence, I tossed my backpack over and hoisted myself across it. Landing with a soft “oomph” on the grass, I took a moment to regain my balance. I brushed the dirt off my pants and slung my bag over my shoulder.

I removed the earbuds from my ears, turning off the music before placing them into my front pocket. I reached the back deck and hesitated at the first step. The screen door was slightly hanging off its hinges.

What the…?

The eerie silence seemed to whisper warnings through the breeze, causing a shiver to run down my spine. I searched my surroundings, uncertain if there were any nearby threats. Having seen enough crime shows, I could sense the scene was not a good sign, but I needed to know if my parents were okay. I desperately hoped that Dad was still at work and Mom was out running errands, and that the disturbance was just a failed attempted robbery.

With trembling legs, I ascended the deck’s wooden steps. I refrained from calling out to my parents, fearing someone may be inside the house. Instead, I strained to hear any signs of movement but was met with silence.

I advanced cautiously, making as little noise as possible. I pulled open the broken screen door and gingerly navigated my way inside. The air inside felt thick and heavy, charged with an unsettling energy. I rounded the corner into the kitchen and the living room. My eyes widened in horror when I saw my father, motionless and tied to a chair.

“Dad?” I choked out. I rushed over to him, stepping over framed photos of my dance and violin recitals. With shaky fingers, I reached for his neck. Relief flooded through me when I felt a faint pulse.

He had several injuries—a busted lip, both eyes red and swollen, a gash on his head, and his face looked like it had been up close and personal with a fist. Panic surged through me as I fumbled for my phone and dialed 9-1-1. But as I was about to press the last digit, a sound, a mere whisper, halted my action. My eyes darted to the source of the noise, and that’s when I saw her.

Mom was on the floor, blood pooling around her body, a look of desperation in her eyes. My breath caught in my throat as I rushed to her side.

“Mama, what happened? Who did this to you?” I looked down at her ghostly, pale face and her once bright amber eyes that were now a dull, haunting gray and staring at me. My heart raced as I glanced at the blood beneath her, a stark contrast against her white shirt. She clutched her right side, and I lifted the hem of her shirt with shaky hands. A sharp gasp escaped my lips when I notice the deep gash on her right side, the blood flowing like a running faucet. My eyes darted around the room, landing on the throw blanket draped over the couch. I snatched it up and pressed it against Mom’s wound, her body flinching in response to the pressure.

“I’ll get you some help,” I told her.

She reached out with a trembling, bloodied hand, her grip weak but determined as she struggled to speak. “Gigi,” she gasped. “Get out of here.” You need to go where they can’t find you.”

What was she talking about? So who couldn’t find us?

“No, Mom. I need to get you and Dad help ,” I pleaded with her.

“Listen to me.” She squeezed my hand, her gaze locking onto mine. “I need you do exactly what I say.” She bit her lower lip and groaned in pain before she continued. “Uncle Malik will keep you safe,” she said, her voice growing weaker with each passing moment. “He’s already been given the distress signal to come get you.”

“No.” I shook my head, tears flowing down my face. “Let me call the police and the ambulance,” I said, reaching for my phone.

“No,” she said quickly. “No police. Go. Now .”

“But you could die ,” I cried.

“I’m already dead, baby.” Her words were like a bullet to my heart, and I felt the ground beneath me crumble. I didn’t want this to be the end. I needed my mom. She wasn’t ready to go yet. The angels would have to wait a little longer.

“Georgina,” she said, her voice firm despite her weakness. “Listen to me, baby. We don’t have much time.”

Through teary eyes, I pleaded in a quavering voice, “Please, Mom.”

“I am so proud of you,” she whispered, her breathing shallow. “Remember that your father and I did everything we could to protect you. But I knew this day would come, and I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you for it.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, glancing between her and Dad, who was still unconscious.

Protect me from what?

“Just promise me that—” She wheezed, her eyes fluttering closed. When they opened again, the light within them had dimmed further. “I love you so much, and I’m so sorry.”

“I love you, Mama,” I whispered, a lump forming in my throat as my mother’s grip loosened.

With one final, trembling breath, her hand went limp in mine. My heart shattered into a million irretrievable pieces as I watched her slip away, the world around me fading into an unbearable, suffocating silence.

* * *

I didn’t know how long I sat there clutching my mother’s lifeless hand as I tried to process what the hell had just happened.

Eventually my gaze fell to my phone, and I dialed 9-1-1.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” the dispatcher asked.

“Someone broke into our home and my parents are...” I choked on the words, finding it too difficult to say them out loud, to admit they were true.

“Ma’am? Did you say someone broke into your house? Are you hurt? Is there anyone else in the house with you?” The dispatcher’s questions came at me rapidly, making it hard for me to know which to answer first.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” she asked in a softer tone.

“Gigi,” I stammered.

“Okay, Gigi. My name is Ella, and I’m going to get you some help. But first, I need you to tell me your address.”

I rattled off the address, still clutching onto my mother’s hand as if the connection would give her life and bring her back to me.

“Good. Now, tell me—who is hurt?”

“My mother is dead and my father?—”

“Gigi?” My dad’s voice was raw and strained. I turned to face him, and he struggled to lift his head.

I dropped my phone and rushed to kneel beside him. “Dad?” I cradled his bloody face in my hands. His stormy blue gaze was filled with pain and fear. “I need you to tell me what happened. Who did this?” I demanded, trying to steady my voice.

He looked away, and I followed his gaze to where Mom laid motionless on the ground. The sight sent a dagger of sorrow straight through my chest.

“Those men... they came in without warning and attacked us. They were speaking Italian. Your mother—” He paused, a shudder rippling through him. “She acted like she knew them. It’s as if she recognized their faces.”

“Dad, I need to get you out of here.”

When I reached behind him to untie his hands, his urgent plea halted my movements. “Baby, stop, stop, stop!”

I sunk back on my heels, eyes locked with his, silently begging him to give me the chance to ease his suffering. “But I need to get you out of here.”

“Find Malik. He will keep you safe,” he gasped out in ragged bursts.

“Dad, I don’t understand. Does Uncle Malik know what’s going on?”

“There isn’t much time,” he said. “They may still be in the house.”

“Dad, who?—”

“Baby, leave now!” he said, his tone urgent and commanding.

I shook my head, refusing to leave him. He still had a chance at surviving, and I wouldn’t let them take him away from me too.

“Gigi. These men are dangerous. They won’t hesitate to kill you. Please, baby, please, ” he pleaded, making me cry harder. “Do this for me. I need you to stay alive.”

I was torn between leaving my father behind to die, or staying and facing a similar fate.

Suddenly, his eyes widened even further as he looked over my shoulder.

Before I could react, a figure appeared in my peripheral. “Well, well, well. Look who’s all grown up.”

I turned to see a tall man who oozed dominance, clad in a sleek black suit.

“Who are you, and what do you want?” I demanded. I rose to my feet, positioning myself in front of my father.

The man’s dark brown eyes bore into me, cold and calculating. That cruel smile widened.

“You’re just like your father. No sign of fear. I wonder what he’d say if he knew you existed.”

I stole a sideways glance at my father, his bright blue eyes now dimmed with sadness and regret.

“Not him. He’s not your real father.” The man chuckled.

I turned slowly back to him, a chill creeping up my spine. His presence was suffocating the room, sucking out all the goodness that once filled the space. I refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, locking my gaze onto his, determined not to show weakness.

When he seemed to realize I wouldn’t engage, he sighed heavily and pushed off the closet, taking a deliberate step closer. He flicked his eyes down to my mom’s lifeless body on the floor. “She almost got away with hiding you,” he said.

He tsk-tsked , the sound mockingly cheerful. “You see, your mother fucked up big time. She betrayed her own family and then gave birth to you—the spawn of the Devil himself.”

I furrowed my brows. What the hell was he babbling about?

“Ah, I see,” the man said. “She didn’t tell you the story, did she? Well, after she betrayed her family, she fled the country like a coward. And then she married him”—he pointed to my dad—“as if she was trying to hide your identity. She seemed to forget the consequences that would follow if she were found.”

I looked at my father. “That’s not true, is it?”

He remained silent, and his eyes squeezed shut. A deep sigh escaped him.

“Dad... please tell me it’s not true?” I pleaded, my voice cracking at the thought of my fear that my life was a lie.

He opened his eyes, tears streaming. “Yes, I knew you were not mine by blood, but it doesn’t matter. You are still my daughter. You are mine .”

“I love you,” I told him, my own tears cascading down my cheeks.

He managed a small smile. “I love you too, sweetheart. Always.”

With a heavy heart, I turned back to the man. “Please let him go. I’ll do anything you want if you do.”

The man studied me, his expression unreadable. For a brief instant, it appeared he might give in, but then his lips curled into a cold smile. “Fine.”

“No. Leave her alone,” my father growled.

The stranger peered over my shoulder and shook his head. “Seeing as I have what I came for”—he glanced at me, then back at my father—“your services are no longer required.” In a swift motion, he pulled out a gun from inside his jacket and aimed it directly at my father.

“NO!” I screamed, but my plea went unanswered.

The man’s finger squeezed the trigger, releasing a muffled shot.

I froze.

The smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils, and warm liquid splattered across my face. I looked down to see my clothes and skin stained with my father’s blood.

I spun around, prepared to lunge at the heartless bastard, but my eyes widened at the sight before me. The stranger’s eyes bulged, and a gurgling sound escaped him as his hands desperately clutched his throat, trying to stop the flow of crimson that gushed between his fingers. When the man’s body crumpled to the floor, my gaze shifted to Uncle Malik, who was standing there with a large hunting knife in his hand that glistened with fresh blood.

I stood frozen, my mind struggling to comprehend what I had just seen. Uncle Malik’s lips moved, but his words were drowned out in silence. I watched as he wiped the blood from the knife and tucked the blade away. When his hands gripped my shoulders, the fog lifted just enough for me to hear his voice pierce through the daze.

“Gigi, snap out of it! We have to get the hell out of here.”

The sharp wail of sirens and the jarring sound of car doors slamming yanked me back to the present. Panic surged through me, and before I could process what to do next, Uncle Malik hoisted me over his shoulder and sprinted toward the back exit.

“Damn it!” he cursed and came to an abrupt stop. We could hear voices outside that grew louder, more insistent.

We were trapped.

Without hesitation, he steered us to the hidden closet, a secret door my parents had built long ago. As a child, I found comfort in that secret room, playing hide-and-seek in there, never understanding its true purpose until now.

My heart thudded rapidly as we heard the front door opening and heavy footsteps moving through the house. As the men spoke, my heart sunk.

“I told you we should’ve come with him to do the job,” one of the men growled.

“How the fuck did he get himself killed?” The other man’s voice was sharp. “Do you think it was the mother? Looks like the poor bitch put up a fight.”

“No,” the first man replied. “Someone else was here.”

Fear tightened around my throat as I listened to them speak. I squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted to scream, to rush out and kill them all, but Malik’s strong hand remained firmly over my mouth.

And then the closet door creaked open, and I stared directly into the face of another monster through the two-way mirror that hid from his view. He was tall, built like a wall of muscle, and his head was covered in tattoos that made him look even more dangerous. The deep scar that ran from his ear to his chin told stories of violence, while a dragon tattoo coiled around his neck, slithering beneath his shirt as if it were alive.

He stepped further into the walk-in closet, and Malik shoved me against his chest. Our bodies were pressed tightly together, but there was nowhere left to go. The man lunged forward, swiping the hangers aside, and fixed his gaze directly at the mirror we were hidden behind. We had a clear view of him, but he couldn’t see us.

I silently sighed in relief when the sirens came closer.

“Boss,” a deep voice said. “The police car’s coming up the road. What do you want us to do?”

My heart raced as I listened. How many men are there?

“Shit. Get into position,” the leader commanded. “You and Rico stay out of sight and let the cops walk in. We’ll handle it from here.”

“Yes, boss,” the man responded before I heard the door close behind him.

“What now?” the man asked, peeking his head out of the closet.

“We get rid of them,” the leader replied.

Without warning, the front door swung open, slamming against the wall. “Police! Freeze! Put your hands up where I can see them!” a man shouted.

“Drop it! Drop the weapon!” a female officer commanded.

The tension in my gut tightened as the man slowly stepped out of the closet and calmly turned around to face the officers. The police officer screamed, followed by the sound of furniture crashing to the ground. I could hear the police officer’s grunts and the clatter of objects being thrown around.

“Get off me!” the woman yelled.

“No, no, no, no!” the man pleaded.

I wanted to help them, but all I could do was listen to the chaos unfolding, feeling helpless while Uncle Malik kept his hold on me.

“Stronzo!” the other man erupted in rage. “You fucking bitch!” He spat out some words in Italian, his voice thick with anger, and then...

Silence.

“Let’s go, Vito!” the first man urged.

“What about the daughter?” Vito shot back. He returned his gaze to the mirror, as though he suspected there might be something behind it.

“We still don’t know if she’s here or not.”

“Forget the damn kid!” the first man snapped. “Let’s burn this fucker down and get the hell out of here. We’ve drawn too much attention already.”

“The boss ain’t going to like us coming back without her.”

The other man muttered something under his breath in Italian, the words laced with bitterness. “Not our fucking problem. If he wants the bitch so bad, he can come find her himself. Let’s go before even more cops come.”

The monster stepped out of the closet, slamming the door shut behind him. Their retreating footsteps were a small relief. A few minutes later, I realized the danger was far from over when smoke began to fill the small space, swirling around us like an evil spirit.

Is the house on fire!?

Uncle Malik’s whisper broke through the silence, his voice steady. “I’m going to carry you out of here, Gigi.”

I nodded, tears flooding my vision.

Uncle Malik lifted me into his strong embrace, but a part of me wanted to rage out and scream, to beg him to leave me there to burn with my parents.

We stepped into the hallway, the stench of smoke making me cough violently. Uncle Malik pushed my head into his neck, shielding me from the smoke.

“Where are we going?” I murmur.

“Somewhere safe,” Malik promised. “I’ll keep you safe, Gigi. I swear it.”

As the smoke stung my eyes and the unbearable reality of my parents’ death settled like a heavy fog in my mind, I knew that Malik was my only hope for survival. But my heart raced with uncertainty and rage, and I couldn’t help but wonder… Did I truly want to be saved now that my parents were gone?

* * *

Waking up from a deep slumber, I blinked my eyes open several times, only to find myself enveloped in confusion. The scent of leather and mahogany hinted that I was in an office, an office that felt unfamiliar.

Wait. Where am I?

The beating of my heart quickened as the puzzle pieces refused to connect. Instead, my thoughts began to wander like a lost soul in limbo. The agony of my parents’ murder gnawed at my insides, a festering wound I knew would never heal.

Who killed Mom and Dad? And why? None of this made any sense.

Were they CIA or part of some covert operation?

Oh, God. And those poor police officers.

Panic threatened to take over until the door swung open. A woman I’d never seen before entered the room with Malik. She wore a white fitted dress that ended an inch above her knees with a black belt across her waist, giving her lawyer-like vibes.

The woman’s gaze met mine while Malik stood behind her. “Hi, Gigi. It’s nice to finally meet you, although I wish it were under better circumstances,” she said with a kind smile. She sat on the chair a few feet in front of me. She flung her long strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder and said, “My name is Madison.”

I stole a glance at Malik, whose hazel eyes were filled with grief. He offered me a fleeting half-smile that failed to mask his inner turmoil. “I’m a lawyer with Brady and Brooks,” Madison continued. “We handle a wide range of legal and business issues, including estate planning.” She paused as if to give me time to take that in. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I promise you, in time, you will have all the answers you need. But first, I want to express my deepest condolences for the loss of your parents.”

The grief crashed over me like a tidal wave at hearing it spoken aloud, and I let the tears fall freely, not bothering to wipe them away.

“Your mother prepared for this day, and she ensured you would have everything you needed.”

Confused, I watched her walk to a photo frame hanging on the wall behind a mahogany desk. She slid it aside, revealing what looked like a hidden safe with a security device that required a code. “Your mother first came to me when you were still in her womb,” she explained, her fingers deftly keying in a code. The safe clicked open. She retrieved something from inside it and locked it again, turning to face me. “All she told me was that you needed to be protected. So, I helped her draft the necessary legal paperwork for you.” She held a sleek black envelope out to me. “This is everything you’ll need to start anew in Chicago.”

“Chicago?”

She ignored my surprised tone and continued. “Identity papers, passports, bank account information, money, and keys to your new apartment, all under an alias,” she explained. “Once you leave Canada, you cannot under any circumstances reveal who you are, where you are from, or anything about your parents to anyone.”

“Is it because of those men? Who were they? And why did they have to—” I swallowed, unable to finish the thought.

Madison took a breath. “Your mother was terrified for your safety,” she began. “She feared that terrible things would happen if they ever discovered who you were.”

“Who’s they?” I asked. “And what do you mean by who I am?”

“Very dangerous men,” Malik interjected.

“Why didn’t you save them too?” I choked out, as tears blurred my vision.

He looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t get the distress call until it was too late,” he replied. “Trust me, I would’ve done everything possible to save them.”

With a nod, I let the tears cascade down my cheeks and wiped them away with the back of my hand. “And the cops?” I whispered.

“I was outnumbered,” he said softly. “And I promised your parents I would do everything and anything to keep you safe. I did what they wanted me to do. Your mother was clear that I wasn’t to leave you unprotected under any circumstances.”

Right. No matter the cost, even if it meant being left parentless and all alone.

“Gigi, your mother told me that the moment you were in danger, we needed to act swiftly to get you to safety, and that means we have to change your identity,” Madison continued, pulling us back into the original conversation.

I reluctantly held the envelope, the weight of this responsibility pressing down on me. Madison’s gaze softened as if she could sense my unease. “I know this is overwhelming, but it’s necessary, Gigi,” she assured me. I nodded, staring at the envelope in my hands as if it might explode at any moment.

“Remember, Gigi,” Malik added. “These men will stop at nothing to find you. Your life here in Canada stays behind. No contact with anyone from here, including your friends.”

With a heavy heart, I realized I was truly on my own now, facing a threat I knew nothing about. And I still didn’t know why they were keeping secrets from me.

“When the time is right, all your questions will be answered,” Madison said, but it sounded like more cryptic shit.

“Do you know what they were involved in?” I asked quietly.

“They weren’t involved in anything,” Malik replied.

“Can’t you give me something?” I pushed, my throat tightening. “ Anything? ”

“All I can tell you is that your parents were good people. They cared about you more than anything else. Everything your mother did was for you. I promise you’ll know the whole truth when the right time comes. But for now, until the threat is gone, you have to remain in the dark. I know it’s hard, but you’ll see why this is necessary once you understand. Please, just trust me, Gigi.”

A suffocating silence engulfed us, each second stretching painfully. My mind raced with questions. What could be so dangerous that they needed to keep it from me? What kind of threat loomed over my life that would push me into hiding? I felt like I was trapped in some twisted plot of a movie.

“And here,” Malik said, breaking the stillness as he handed me a new cell phone. “This is a secure line that you can reach me on. My number is stored, along with Madison’s. Your conversations must remain brief. Emergencies only. Do you understand?”

I nodded, though my grip tightened instinctively around the phone as if it was some sort of time machine that could send me back in time to when my parents were still alive. “Yes, I understand,” I whispered, the words laced with my fear of what lay ahead.

Madison offered me a gentle smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Live your life as normally as possible so you don’t raise suspicion. Find a job that’s completely outside your usual interests—something that no one would ever associate with you.” Her gaze sharpened as she emphasized her next point. “One slip and you’ll be exposed. We can’t afford any mistakes.” Her words were a chilling reminder of the stakes. “There’s a black sedan waiting for you outside. The driver will take you to the airport,” she continued.

I turned to face Malik, my heart aching at the thought of leaving him behind. “What about you?” I asked, my voice quivering. “You’re not coming with me?” He was more than just a protector; he was family in every way that mattered. He’d always been a part of my life and I couldn’t imagine losing him too.

He took both of my hands in his. “Not right away. I need to stay here to make sure no one picks up your trail. If I get a whiff that they’ve found you, I wouldn’t want to intentionally lead them to you.”

I gave a single nod, a wave of sadness crashing over me at this cruel twist of fate.

“Once you arrive at the airport, the driver will take you to your new apartment,” Madison said. “Gigi, you cannot trust anyone. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, I understand,” I replied. “What’s my new name?” I asked, a sense of dread creeping in now that I was losing my identity along with everything else I had already lost.

“Winter,” Madison said softly.

“So, were Chris and Natalia their real names?” I asked.

Madison’s expression turned somber. “Chris was your father’s name,” she replied. “Your mother’s real name was Angelica.” She paused. “I don’t know her maiden name; she kept it secret to conceal your identities.”

“Did my father know anything about this when he married my mom?” I asked.

Deep down, I had known he couldn’t be my biological father. We looked nothing alike. I never asked Mom because he was my dad in every sense that mattered. He taught me how to ride a bike, took me to our father-daughter dances, and showed up at every recital, cheering me on like a proud father.

Madison looked away, her gaze distant, as if she was peering into a past shrouded in shadows. “No. She thought it was best to keep that part of her life a secret. The world she came from was dangerous, and she believed that anonymity was your best chance at a normal life.”

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I grappled with what they sacrificed, and all for me. The crushing fear, grief, and the stark reality of my situation overwhelmed me like a heavy, suffocating blanket, pressing down until I struggled to breathe. My fate had been decided for me, thrust upon me like a cruel twist of destiny, and I was left to wrestle with the shattering truth. Nothing would ever be the same again.