18. Chapter 18

eighteen

Clara

I 'm sitting at the dining table with Elijah, watching him devour his spaghetti like it’s his last meal. His cheeks are puffed out, smeared with red sauce, and there’s a noodle dangling from his chin.

It’s adorable in a messy, chaotic way. Just like everything else in our lives.

Buzz.

Buzz.

I hear my phone vibrate from the kitchen counter where I left it. Probably another message from work, or maybe Mitch checking in. But I ignore it.

This is our time, Elijah’s and mine.

These precious moments where it’s just us, no distractions, no worries.

It hits me sometimes how fast he’s growing. Seems like just yesterday he was a tiny bundle in my arms, and now he’s this little ball of energy, full of opinions and stories and endless questions.

My little man. Always trying to protect me, even though I’m the one who’s supposed to protect him.

A lump forms in my throat, and I blink back the sudden sting of tears.

Damn it, Clara, keep it together.

“And then, Pikachu used Thunderbolt and zapped the bad guys!” Elijah exclaims, waving his fork around like a tiny conductor. A glob of tomato sauce flies off, splattering against the pristine white wall.

“Oops.” He giggles, not looking sorry at all.

I sigh, grabbing a napkin. “Elijah, what have we said about playing with our food?”

“Sorry, Mommy.” He grins up at me, all cherubic innocence. “I got excited.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I can see that.” I lean over, wiping more sauce off his cheek. “You’ve got more pasta on your face than in your tummy!”

He giggles again, squirming away from the napkin. “It’s the attack of the killer tomatoes!”

I snort. This kid’s imagination, I swear. Never a dull moment.

Outside, the spring sun streams through the windows, casting a warm glow over the kitchen. It’s a beautiful day, the kind that makes you feel alive.

But I can’t quite shake the shadow that lingers in the back of my mind. The memory of that night five years ago.

I glance at Elijah, my heart clenching. To think I almost…

No. I can’t go there.

What matters is that I didn’t.

I chose him, chose to keep him. And it’s the best decision I’ve ever made.

Even if his father is…

I shudder, remembering the stranger in the mask. The heat of his body, the cold metal of the gun pressed to my skin. The way the world spun, blurred by drugs and alcohol.

I never saw his face. Never knew his name. He was just a ghost, a phantom that left me with the greatest gift and the heaviest burden.

“Mommy?” Elijah’s voice snaps me back to the present. “Are you okay? You look sad.”

I force a smile. “I’m okay, sweetie. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

About the biggest mistake I almost made. About the guilt that still eats at me, even now.

But I can’t say that. Not to him. Not to my sweet, innocent boy.

“About how much I love you,” I say instead, reaching over to boop his nose. “And how lucky I am to be your mommy.”

He beams, his little face lighting up. “I’m lucky too! You’re the best mommy ever!”

My heart melts. This kid… he’s my everything.

Five years ago, if someone told me this was where I’d be, I would’ve laughed in their face.

Me, Clara Caldwell, a responsible mother? No way. But life has a funny way of changing you, of showing you what really matters.

Five years ago, revenge was all I could think about. Making the Ravens pay for what they did to Jake.

For taking my brother from me.

But now… now I have a new priority. A new reason to keep going.

Elijah Caldwell.

“ What do you want me to do?” I hiss, my eyes darting between Stephan and my father. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

I glance at the door, making sure it’s shut tight. Elijah’s voice floats in from the hall, chattering away to Mitch about some new cartoon.

I lower my voice to a harsh whisper. “You want me to pose as a waitress and sneak into The Black Raven Club tonight? To fucking poison Leonid Kuznetsov?”

Stephan leans forward, his elbows on the old oak desk. “Clara, this is our chance. The only chance we might get. With Leonid out of the picture, the Kuznetzovs will be in chaos. It’s the perfect time to strike back.”

I shake my head, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. “In case you forgot, I’ve been out of the game for five years. Ever since dear old Dad here kicked me to the curb for getting knocked up.”

My father, Maxwell Caldwell, the once great leader of the Irish mob, sits slumped in his leather chair. He reeks of whiskey and stale sweat, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.

“It’s your fault,” he slurs, jabbing a finger at me. “It’s all your fault. If you hadn’t been such a slut, Jake would still be alive.”

The words hit me like a slap. It doesn’t matter how much time goes by; it always hurts.

“Fuck you,” I spit. “Jake died protecting me. Protecting your daughter. But you’ve never given a shit about me, have you? Not since Mom died popping me out.”

My father’s face twists into a grimace, but he says nothing. Just takes another swig from the half-empty bottle on the desk.

Stephan sighs, running a hand over his hair. “Clara, please.”

I bite my lip, torn. A part of me wants revenge so badly I can taste it. But the other part, the part that’s spent the last four years being a mother, wants to run back to Elijah and never look back.

I think of my son, his bright smile, his infectious laugh. How he’s the only good thing to come out of all this mess. Can I really risk orphaning him, all for the sake of a vendetta?

“How the hell am I supposed to do this?” I ask, frustration seeping into my voice. “No one knows what Kuznetsov looks like. How am I supposed to poison the right man?”

Stephan shifts uncomfortably. “We had an assassin lined up. But he bailed last minute. Said the job was too risky.”

I scoff. More like no one wants anything to do with the Caldwells anymore. We’re fucking long gone in the game.

“So, you want to send me? A rusty has-been who’s been wiping noses and changing diapers for the last four years?”

“You’re our only shot at this,” Stephan pleads, his voice dropping low. “No one will see it coming. It’s a quick job; poison him, and it’s done. You’ll be back with Elijah in just a few hours. Everything’s arranged, all set for you. Please, this is our chance to end it all.”

I look around the room, taking in the faded grandeur, the peeling wallpaper, the thick layer of dust on every surface. It’s a far cry from the plush office I remember from my childhood.

Just like the man sitting behind the desk is a far cry from the father I once knew.

Maxwell heaves himself to his feet, swaying slightly. “You owe us this, girl,” he growls. “After everything this family has done for you—”

I scoff. “What family? You mean the one that turned their back on me when I needed them most?”

Stephan stands, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Clara, I know it’s been hard. But this is your blood. Your heritage. The Caldwells, we stick together. No matter what.”

I close my eyes, the weight of the past pushing down on me.

Jake’s laugh.

The scrape of the shovel as I helped Stephan bury my brother’s body.

But then I see Elijah’s face, his trusting eyes looking up at me. Can I really do this to him? Risk everything, risk his whole world, for a chance at payback?

I inhale sharply, my hands balling into tight fists.

“No, I’m sorry, I won’t do it. I promised Elijah a Pokémon movie tonight.”