CHAPTER FOUR

I closed my eyes, soaking up my last few moments of peace.

“Are you going to be—?”

“Nope, you two aren’t allowed to ask me those questions right now, remember?”

I peeled my eyes open to Melody scowling at me from the front seat. “It was about the house.”

“Ugh, not that either,” I huffed in response, glancing over at the home in question. It looked like something out of Martha Stewart magazine, white stucco with light grey accents and a tiny rose garden in the very front. Nothing like it did when my parents lived there.

Peyton broke the silence in the car. "Just to clarify, you're serious about what we discussed earlier?"

I met his gaze through the rearview mirror and nodded confidently.

"I can't just accept things as they are. I need answers and I want to know why the head of a criminal empire is suddenly taking an interest in me.”

Peyton scoffed and Melody's expression turned into a scowl. I raised my hand to stop them from starting another argument. "I'm not saying I'm uninteresting, but there's no logical reason for him to personally greet me upon my return to his city."

"Yeah, I have no idea what that could be about. It's unlikely he has any connection to what happened," Melody replied.

"Well," Peyton said slowly, considering his words carefully. "You are the long-lost heir of the Castello family, and that would definitely catch his attention."

They both made valid points, even though they were slightly flawed. As we ate earlier, I had already thought about it and knew that he couldn't possibly be involved in what happened with my aunt and missing sister.

He had no reason to care or be concerned with who any of us were. However, there was no doubt in my mind that he knew something. I wasn’t desperate enough to ask him yet. I didn’t know how to go about even doing so and I hoped for all our sakes I’d never have to figure that out. No one would willingly consort with the devil unless touched by madness. I looked back at the house and spotted my grandmother not so discreetly watching us from the front bay window.

“And what are we going to do about that?” Melody asked.“ Your nonna is not going to let you become Nancy Drew. You’re all she has left besides Luis, and we all know what a massive cazzo he is.”

I laughed. “I can placate her for now. At least until I’m confident enough to lie to her face.”

Peyton turned and grinned at me slyly.

“What?”

“Your mama would be proud. ”

“Would she? My father wouldn’t,” I mused, feeling the familiar pang in my heart when I thought of them.

It had been years, and the ache still hadn’t dulled. Losing Aunt Molly and not having my sister had brought it all back. Grief was like a relentless storm that I couldn't escape. Some days, it raged with such ferocity that it threatened to engulf me. On others, it became a familiar drizzle, a constant presence that oddly anchored me in its persistence. If there ever came a day that the storm ceased; I’d be dead.

“I think they’d both be proud of you for coming back here when you have every reason to run,” Peyton said softly.

I wasn’t so sure about that. My parents had known exactly how brutal and unforgiving their world was. I couldn’t be sure they’d ever intended on having kids, but nonetheless, here I was. “I want to say one more time, whoever is behind this won’t like anyone digging into it. You two don’t have to help me. ”

“If you’re doing anything remotely insane and chaotic, you won’t be doing it alone,” Melody countered.

Peyton nodded in agreement. “She’s right. No matter what happens, we do this together. Besides, you’re going to need us.”

I relented with a sigh. “As long as it doesn’t endanger either of you. I would never be able to live with myself if something happened to you guys because of me.”

“It wouldn’t be because of you,” Mel reasoned.

I looked at them and could practically feel their love for me. Distance—being worlds apart—hadn’t severed our bond in the slightest. It felt like we were picking up right where we left off. I was blessed to have them. Which is why I felt terrible about not divulging the truth about Eva. It’s not like I didn’t want to. I would’ve loved to bare my soul and confess my sister wasn’t in that casket.

But I couldn’t .

Not yet.

Revealing that kernel of truth felt so much more dangerous than telling them I wanted to know who was behind what happened to her and Aunt Molly.

“Let me get inside. She’ll stand there all night if I don’t.” I opened the door and was immediately engulfed in heat. “I’ll text you guys.”

I made my way into the house, feeling as if I’d been cast in a horror movie. Any second now, Aunt Molly would appear and point in the direction I came from, warning me to turn back and stay the hell away from here. I smiled to myself, hearing her Southern voice in my head. If only I could do that Molls.

My grandmother and uncle were in the foyer before I was all the way inside, one concerned and the other visibly annoyed. She had to of moved pretty damn fast to get here before I did.

“Are you alright? ”

“You’ve gotta be missing some brain cells, girl. You wanna run off, take someone with you,” my uncle’s raspy voice drowned out her question.

“Like who? You?”

He opened and closed his mouth, no words coming out. He’d clearly forgotten how far our house had fallen, too caught up in his feelings.

“You can’t just go off on your own, Elena,” he practically growled.

“I wasn’t alone, and Grandma was fine with it. Besides, I rode with Peyton and Melody. You remember them, right?”

His mouth opened and closed, the tick in his jaw a tell. There wasn’t anything he could say about that. Both of them came from families of much higher standing than ours these days. Families that probably would’ve destroyed what remained of us Castello’s long ago if not for my friendship with their children. Not only had I lucked out with the greatest of friends, but their families weren’t like the rest of the power-hungry savages around here. They were content with what they had while remaining prominent by their own consistent methods.

Uncle Luis blinked, his round dark eyes blazing into mine before roaming over my body from head to toe. It made me highly uncomfortable. He’d always been an unusual guy, but at least back then he didn’t look at me the way he does now. My father would’ve killed him—brother or not. Doing my best to ignore his sick probing, I diverted my eyes to Grandma.

“I would like to get cleaned up.”

He guffawed, preparing to say something condescending no doubt, but my grandmother spoke before he could. “Of course, diosa. We can talk later.” She gave me a smile that wasn’t entirely genuine.

I gave one back that was just as fake and walked away .

I felt their eyes on me the entire way up the sweeping staircase. Once I was inside my room, I locked the door and began stripping out of my clothes. I headed directly to the adjoining bathroom and stepped into the shower, resolute in my intent to cleanse myself of the day's filth and gather my thoughts. It was then, amidst the heated cascading water, that the fragile barrier holding everything back finally shattered.

“Goddamnit, Eva,” I cursed my sister’s name, excessively scrubbing my skin with a purple loofah.

The grey and white mosaic tiled wall blurred through a curtain of tears. I’d told her countless times not to come back to this place, but she wouldn’t listen. Glamour and wealth were powerful addictions to girls who felt they had nothing but poverty and squalor. She soaked up this lavish lifestyle and all the attention people gave her like a sponge.

She immersed herself further and further past the point of no return, overly indulging in everything our father had tried to distance us from. Even when he promised our new living arrangements were temporary, it was obvious when he came to get us it wouldn’t be to return here. I never got the chance to ask what led him to that decision. We hadn’t received one phone call, letter, or e-mail since the day we said goodbye to him and our mother.

Eva thought they were happy to shove us out of his life. She swore Dad had a mistress and didn’t want his family anymore. It was a regular argument between us no matter how much I pointed out our mother would sooner castrate him than ever let that slide. A lot of women considered their husbands straying to be something they needed to accept. Many were more than happy for another woman to take up the gauntlet, or when their husbands paid for pleasure because they’d married for power and not love.

Some had no choice at all .

Mom had been one of the brides who barely knew her husband, our father, but they’d fallen head over heels for one another. Dad would’ve leveled the earth for her. It was tragically poetic that they had died together. Yet still, my sister refused to believe the truth. She grew even more irrational after they were killed. Instead of feeling broken and mourning them like I had, she was pissed that our father didn’t leave us any of his assets.

I assumed our grandmother now controlled what remained of his estate. I saw it as him further ensuring we never returned. My father was seen as cold-hearted and ruthless to almost everyone, but I remembered a man who loved us so much he broke his own heart trying to set us free. Whatever caused him to do the things he did must have been warranted. As soon as she was able, Eva went against his wishes with a dramatic flair. Maybe it was then everything derailed .

The day I lost them I began losing my sister. How many times had I screamed at her for the shitty choices she had started to make again and again? She always screamed back before storming out of the house. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, go after her. I either had zero desire to do so, or nine times out of ten, had to work. We lived on a strict allowance where every penny had a designation long before it hit my now pitifully overdrawn account.

Aunt Molly was always the poster of guilt when I handed her the money from my paychecks to help keep a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs. That was another source of contention—money. I understood why we weren’t given anything to live off. Large deposits to a bank in the ghetto would be a little too obvious if someone were looking for us, something Dad was notorious for being paranoid about.

Arguing was my and Eva’s thing, though, and that night was no different .

We did it weekly.

I thought she was a fool for coming here pretending to be someone and something she wasn’t. She thought I was pathetic and weak for being complacent. One of us always removed ourselves from the situation and before the night was over, either she or I would text to apologize and say I love you. This last time, she never read the text.

I hadn’t seen her or heard from her since she’d left the house. I think I struggled with that the most. I couldn’t be without my sister. She was half of my whole. It didn’t matter how angry she made me or how badly her words could cut. I loved her more than the rage and hurt. The only reason I’d come back to was for her.

While vengeance for Aunt Molly consumed all the thoughts my sister didn’t, the agony of her loss raw, this wasn't a fictional tale of retribution. This was my reality .

To bring down her killer meant unraveling the mastermind behind it all. I wasn’t powerful enough to be a threat or make any. My only means of finding my sister and the truth involved immersing myself in a world I abhorred.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped a plushy towel around my body and twisted my hair up, locking it in place with a clip. Everything around me was blindingly white with a gray marble accent. This bathroom was the same one that had been attached to my childhood bedroom. They’d redone where I slept, swapping the princess theme with these tones, but nothing else had changed. It brought back a painful nostalgia of a childhood long gone. It was going to be hard to get used to. I’d grown accustomed to living a lower-class lifestyle. Every time I looked around at my surroundings, I felt as if I’d tripped and fallen into an alternate reality .

In a way, I guess I had. I’d trade it all for what I lost in a heartbeat if I could. Poverty was better than this cold, glamorized emptiness. Maybe that wouldn’t make sense to a lot of people. In a way, I guess I had. I’d trade it all for what I lost in a heartbeat if I could. Poverty was better than this cold, glamorized emptiness. Maybe that wouldn’t make sense to a lot of people. To most, the glittering facade of wealth and privilege was all they ever desired. I knew the truth that lurked beneath the surface, concealed behind designer clothes and lavish parties.

There was a darkness in this world of opulence, a shadow that clung to every corner, whispering secrets of corruption and deceit. Even then, I could feel it creeping closer, a malevolent presence that hungered for more than just material wealth. It yearned for souls to claim, for hearts to break, for lives to destroy. That’s how it dragged me back here .

I let out a deep breath and tried to hold back the wave of tears threatening to spill over, but I couldn't fight them any longer. Crying was a necessary release before I could gather myself and move forward. It was part of our family's ethos: when life knocks you down, you get back up and come back even stronger. As my tears fell silently, I held onto the hope that I would feel it if my sister was truly gone. I repeated to myself that she couldn't be, refusing to accept anything else.

Deep down, I knew I needed to prepare for the worst. Accepting it was an entirely different battle. When the truth came out, I wasn't sure what I would do or how I would cope, but no matter what the case was, I was determined to find my sister and bring her back home.