Page 93 of Beneath the Shadows

“Why didn’t you come to me first?”

Cecilia’s eyes fill with tears. “She felt trapped, Antonio. She told me how awful her life was growing up. How her father’s demands crushed her. And then when she told me about Valentino and what he did to her.” Her voice cracks, and she wipes her cheeks. “I couldn’t stand to see her like that. Desperate and scared. I just wanted to help her, to give her the freedom she always dreamed of.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I say and take a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me, Cecilia,” I say, my voice softer.

Cecilia nods, though her expression remains troubled. “I’m sorry, Antonio. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

“I know,” I reply and place a kiss on top of her head. “I’ll handle it.”

But as I head back downstairs, I can’t shake the feeling that everything is about to get much more complicated. Alessia’s out there alone and if I don’t find her soon, someone else will. And if they do—they won’t. I can’t let that happen.

“I thought you were staying for dinner?” my mother calls as I reach the front door.

“There’s been a change of plans,” I say, already opening the door. “Raincheck?”

“Please be safe, Anton.”

“I will.”

I’m barely out the door before I pull out my phone and dial Dante. He picks up on the second ring. “What’s up?”

“We have a problem,” I grit out, the frustration boiling over. “A huge fucking problem.”

Alessia

I’ve quickly fallen in love with the small, enchanting town of Magnolia Springs. From its tree-lined streets to the gentle flow of the Magnolia River, this charming southern town has captivated my heart. There’s a peace here, a serenity I’ve never known. Each day feels like another layer of my past peeling away, loosening its grip on my soul.

Every morning, the sound of birds chirping outside my bedroom window wakes me. After my shifts at the diner, I take long walks around town, letting the warm breezes wash over me. The simplicity of life here fills me with inspiration.

My new camera, bought with the money I’ve earned, feels like a lifeline. The click of the shutter captures moments that would otherwise be lost, slowly mending the parts of my soul that Valentino broke.

People here have started to recognize me, greeting me with smiles and nods as I pass. I return the gesture, but I keep my distance, careful not to reveal too much. Despite my guarded nature, I’ve grown closer to Rosie. She’s a force of nature—quick-witted, full of infectious laughter, and as tough as nails. In the weeks since I started at the diner, she’s taken me under her wing. It’s been easier than I expected to let my guard down with her. She’s the first real friend I’ve ever had.

Rosie’s story is one of resilience. She was widowed two years ago, her husband—her high school sweetheart, passed away after a long battle with cancer. The Bluebird Diner was their shared dream. When he died, she didn’t know how she’d keep it going alone. That’s when her brother, Brian, moved back to help.

Brian’s kind, with chestnut-brown hair and soulful eyes. Rosie’s not exactly subtle about the way her eyes light up when he’s around, or the hints she drops whenever we’re all together. It’s obvious she hopes something might develop between us, that maybe Brian and I could end up together.

The thought makes me smile, though I can’t see it happening. He’s handsome, sure, and being around him is easy, but after everything I’ve been through, I’m not ready to let anyone in. I’m not sure I ever will be. Still, I can’t bring myself to tell Rosie to stop hoping.

One Sunday afternoon, after the diner’s closed, Rosie and I sit on her front porch in heavy wooden rocking chairs, sipping sweet tea. The tension in my shoulders melts away as I snap pictures of the wildflowers. They’re still holding droplets of rain on their petal from a shower that moved through earlier.

“You’ve got a good eye, you know,” Rosie says, nodding toward the camera hanging around my neck. “You take some mighty fine pictures.”

“Thanks. It’s something I’ve always loved.”

“Ever thought about making it more than a hobby?” Her eyes sparkle with interest. “We get lots of tourists through here. I bet you could sell them.”

I hesitate, caught off guard by her suggestion. She doesn’t know I’ve been sending photos to the gallery in Philadelphia. “Maybe one day,” I say, evading the whole truth. “Right now, I’m just enjoying the freedom to do it again.”

Rosie’s smile fades slightly, her expression thoughtful. “You’re a tough nut to crack, you know that?”

I laugh, a sound that surprises even me. “I’m not trying to be mysterious.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “I understand. You’ve been through hard times. I’m just glad you’re here and starting to find some happiness.”

Her words warm something deep inside me. When I ran, I never expected to find someone like Rosie—someone offering friendship without asking for anything in return. It’s a rare gift, and I’m grateful for it.

As we sit in comfortable silence, I let myself imagine what it would be like to stay here permanently. The thought is both exhilarating and terrifying. It’s been nearly six weeks, and no one’s come looking for me. With Valentino dead, I’m no longer useful to my father, and Antonio doesn’t have to feel responsible for me anymore.

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