Page 63 of Sins of the Father
Mia pressed a trembling hand to her stomach, a whisper of disbelief still flickering in her chest every time she thought about it. A baby. Luc’s baby. So many times she’d taken out the new phone she’d bought under a false name, her thumb hoveringover the call icon, her heart pounding as if his name could pull her back to him through the airwaves. Every time, she’d had to bite her knuckles to stop herself.
Leaving him had been both the hardest and the easiest thing she’d ever done. Hard because she loved him. Easy because she couldn’t survive in his world. She hated deceiving Gabriella and Bianca—they’d been her sisters in every way that mattered—but if she’d told them her plan, they would’ve stopped her. Or worse, told Luc.
She’d planned her escape carefully. The day she left, she’d taken over two hundred thousand dollars from the safe in Luc’s office, tucked behind the guns and files. She’d even taken one of the guns—a small, sleek piece she prayed she’d never have to use. During the shopping trip, she’d bought jeans, plain tops, a few sweaters, and a dark wig. When she walked out of that store, she’d passed Gabriella and Bianca in the aisle, as well as the two bodyguards waiting outside. None of them recognized her.
The saleswoman, who thought she was just another nervous wife, had agreed to deliver the sealed letters ten minutes after she left. By then, Mia was already gone on the bus, for she had looked up the schedule ahead of time. She’d traveled for six days straight—switching buses, blending into crowds, sleeping in cheap but clean motels. Each mile she put between herself and New York made her heart ache a little more.
Now, in Florida, she was safe or as safe as she could be. The café’s ceiling fan creaked above her, pushing warm air around. People chatted about nothing important. Outside, the world kept moving, oblivious. Mia picked up her iced tea again, tracing the rim with her finger. She should have felt free. Instead, she felt hollow. She didn’t know how to build a future out of the ashes she’d left behind or how to tell the tiny heartbeat inside her that their father was the man she could never stop loving… and could never return to.
The radio on the café patio crackled, the cheerful voice of the host cutting through the hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes.
“… reports confirm escalating violence in Miami, believed to be linked to organized crime. Authorities are urging residents to stay indoors after a string of shootings overnight. And in international news, there’s a new travel alert for tourists headed to Jamaica. Violence has broken out in Montego Bay between rival factions—officials are calling it a developing gang conflict…”
Mia’s fingers stilled around her glass. Iceclinkedsoftly as the announcer’s words sank in. Her throat tightened. “It’s everywhere, ” she whispered.
The violence she thought she could outrun was, in reality, seeping into the corners of every country. It wasn’t confined to Luc’s empire—it existed in men’s greed, in the need for more. No one escaped it entirely.
The realization had hit her like a physical blow only last week: death could come at any time, from anyone. All the hiding, the fear, the running—it didn’t stop the inevitable. She stared out at the busy street beyond the café’s patio rail. Cars passed, people laughed, and children tugged on their parents’ hands as they crossed the road. Life went on, fragile and fleeting, and she was sitting here with a heart that refused to stop aching for the man she’d left behind.
Mia missed Luc so much that breathing hurt. Every night, he haunted her, and in the days, she still thought of his touch, his rough laughter, the way his voice softened when he said her name. The memories always came like waves, crashing through her defenses until she tried to read a book or watch a movie to distract her heart. Sometimes she even cried.
She’d tried to tell herself it was just hormones. The pregnancy messing with her mind. But deep down, Mia knewthe truth—she loved him with her entire heart. Fiercely. Desperately. Hopelessly. She missed the warmth of their laughter, the stolen mornings when he’d hold her before the chaos of the day. She missed the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing in his dark world that still made sense. She wanted to go home. To him. To the strange, broken family she’d found with Gabriella, Bianca, and even Carlos. She wanted that sense of belonging again, the illusion of safety wrapped in Luc’s arms.
But could she go back? Could she step into that life again, knowing what it demanded of her? Or was this longing just her body craving what it had lost—the man who had claimed her, heart and soul? Mia ate the last bite of her donut. She lifted her glass of iced lemonade, took a sip—and froze.
Her pulse kicked hard.
Across the street, in the shifting crowd, she thought she saw Carlos. Tall, dark hair, sharp eyes scanning the area. He was dressed casually, but there was something unmistakable in the way he moved—alert, deliberate, predatory.
The glass trembled in her hand. It couldn’t be him. He was in New York. He couldn’t have found her here. How? She had been so careful.
“I am seeing things,” she muttered.
But when the man turned his head slightly, the sunlight catching on the familiar angle of his jaw, Mia’s stomach dropped.
Carlos was here. And that meant Luc couldn’t be far behind. Mia’s pulse thundered in her ears. She slipped a twenty under her plate, another under her glass, enough to cover the meal and a generous tip for the waitress. Her hands shook as she grabbed her worn canvas bag from the floor. It held everything she owned now—cash, the gun she’d taken, and the small vial of prenatal vitamins she’d started taking.
Keep your head down. Don’t look scared.
She adjusted the strap across her shoulder, slipped on her sunglasses, and walked briskly out of the café, her heart beating so hard she thought people must hear it. The Florida heat slammed into her like a wall. The sunlight was blinding, and she kept her head tilted just enough that her wig’s dark strands shadowed her face.
She turned left, then right, blending into the moving crowd. Street vendors shouted about fresh mangoes, cars honked at a delivery truck double-parked, music pulsed faintly from a nearby bar. Everything looked painfully normal.
Then she saw Carlos again. He was across the street, moving fast, his expression grim, eyes locked on her.
Mia, move.
She broke into a run. A woman cursed as Mia shoved past, nearly knocking her ice cream to the pavement. She sprinted across the street, horns blaring as tires squealed. A car clipped her hip, the rush of air hot against her leg. She stumbled but kept running, cutting down a side alley that smelled like salt, trash, and engine oil.
“Stop!” Carlos’s voice carried behind her, sharp and furious.
Not a chance. Mia veered right, ducking between two dumpsters and bursting out onto a narrow street behind the row of shops. Her lungs burned, but she pushed harder. She spotted a delivery truck idling and darted behind it, crouching low as the driver loaded boxes into a handcart.
She waited and counted her breaths. Footsteps thundered past the mouth of the alley. For a heartbeat, silence.
Then his voice, closer this time. “Mia, there is no sense in running. I have found you.”
She slipped out from behind the truck and ran again, heading toward the marina. The smell of saltwater grew stronger, the gulls louder. If she could get to the boats, maybe she could findone leaving. Mia darted into a souvenir shop, startling the clerk. She tossed a twenty on the counter and ducked behind a rack of beach towels. Through the front window, she saw him appear, scanning each doorway.
