Page 59 of Psychotic Faith
In the dream, Neumann stands among the corpses, that same smile from before stretching wider. "No witnesses left, little Faith," he laughs, stepping over bodies. "You needed them to talk, and your psycho boyfriend made them silent forever. Whose side is he really on?"
I wake gasping, sheets soaked with sweat, reaching for empty space where his body should be, where for one night I learned what it felt like not to be alone. My skin still remembers the weight of him, the safety of being surrounded by danger.
Right. I sent him away. The good choice. The moral choice.
But my body disagrees, aching for comfort I've rejected, for the man who made me feel safe while covered in blood.
My phone screen burns my eyes. 5:50 a.m. I scroll through news on my cracked screen. The spider web fracture is worse now, distorting the images. Neumann Pharmaceuticals stock up three percent. Photos from last night's medical charity gala: Neumann in his tuxedo, champagne in hand, his wife elegant beside him. They're thriving while my mother rots in the ground.
The article mentions new FDA approval for their latest anxiety medication. The same brand I take. The bitter irony makes me want to flush every pill, but I need them now more than ever.
Another story: "Local Business Owner Missing." Peterson, who used to launder money through his chain of dry cleaners. One of my witnesses. Gone, just like the others who keep disappearing even though Luca's supposedly leaving me alone.
My phone rings. Dad. It's not even 6 a.m.
"You sound tired, sweetheart," he says without preamble. His judge voice, the one that dissects truth from lies.
"Just work stress." The lie comes automatically now, smooth as silk. Though not as smooth as Luca's expensive sheets against my bare skin. I push that thought away viciously.
"Maybe you should take some time off. Come stay with me for a few days."
The offer is tempting. Retreat to my childhood room, surround myself with my mother's photos, pretend I'm still the good daughter who believes in justice through proper channels. Pretend I didn't let a killer make me come so hard I saw stars.
"I'm fine, Dad."
"You don't sound fine. You sound worried. I can hear it in your voice. The same tone from when your mother…" He trails off, but we both know what he means.
"I'm fine," I repeat, the lies getting harder to maintain when my body still aches in places that remind me exactly how not-fine I am.
"Faith, if something's wrong…"
"Nothing's wrong." Another lie. Everything's wrong. My plan is crumbling, witnesses are disappearing, and I sent away the only person capable of helping me destroy Neumann.
"I need to go," I say before his worried questions can crack my facade.
I hang up before he can press further. He means well, but Judge Theodore Winters can't help with this. He believes in law and order, in systems that failed my mother. Only one family in Chicago has the power to destroy Neumann completely, and I just told them to leave me alone.
My twelve-year plan is crumbling. Without witnesses, without evidence that won't mysteriously disappear, without connections to people who can make things happen, I have nothing but rage and patience that's finally run out.
By noon, I'm deep in research mode, my laptop surrounded by newspapers and printed articles. Not about Neumann thistime. About the Rosettis. The whole family, not just the brother who's killed countless men for me.
Their resources are staggering. Shipping companies that could move anything anywhere. Construction firms that pour foundations deep enough to hide secrets. Waste management services that make problems disappear. The infrastructure of power, built over generations.
They made four bodies vanish in one night. No evidence. No investigation. That kind of efficiency could be useful, applied properly to the right target.
You're rationalizing, my conscience whispers. But Neumann's laugh echoes louder, drowning out morality with memory.
My phone rings. Unknown number. I almost don't answer, but something, that same instinct that made me kiss Luca, makes me swipe accept.
"Faith?" A woman's voice, smooth and cultured. "It's Sofia. Luca's sister."
My heart stops. "I'm not…"
"I know you're not talking to him. This isn't about that." Her tone is pure business, no emotion bleeding through. "We're having a family dinner tomorrow. Seven PM."
"I don't think…"
"It's not a date. Not about Luca's… situation. It's about Neumann."
