Page 116 of Flawed

"They're a crime family. What do you think they do, Mom? I'm pretty sure they hurt and kill people. Maybe Papi does it for them!" she shrieks.

I resist the urge to run out of the room and escape. I reprimand, "Don't you dare disrespect your grandfather. And the Marinos have been nothing but kind to us."

"You still work for the mob." She smirks.

I clench my fists at my sides, trying to compose myself. What do I say to that? I can't deny it. So I ignore it and order, "Change the subject."

Her green eyes blaze. She explodes, "No! The only thing you've ever told me is that my birthmark is the same one my father has in the same spot. What else? Tell me more about him."

I answer how I always do. "There's nothing else to tell you. That's all you need to know. This conversation is over. Go get ready for the wedding."

A flash of hatred radiates off her. It makes me want to crawl in a hole. My little girl, who used to look at me with nothing but love, is so angry with me.

And it's my fault. I'm the one who chose this, whether it's in her best interest or not.

She stomps out of the room and goes into her bedroom suite.

I finish cleaning the kitchen then jump in my shower. My mind races with all the ways I've failed my daughter and still feel like I am, but I don't know what else to do.

The guilt continues eating me as I dry my hair, put on my makeup, and slip into my dress.

I'm strapping on my heels when Zara yells, "Mom, Grandpa's here. He says he needs to talk to you."

The hairs on my neck rise. Why is my father here? Both he and my mother are supposed to attend Bridget and Dante's wedding. I'll see them in an hour or so. So why is he here?

I finish clasping my strap and go out into the main room. I question, "Dad, what's going on?"

His silence makes the blood drain from my face. Goose bumps pop out on my skin. It scares me.

Still, he says nothing.

I fret, "Dad? Is Mom okay?"

He nods and holds his hand out. "Yes, your mother's fine."

A tiny amount of relief hits me, but something isn't right. I repeat, "Then what is it?"

He glances at Zara.

She asserts, "I'm not going anywhere." She plops down on the couch.

He pins his dark eyes on her, ordering, "Go to your room, Zara. I need to talk to your mother."

For some reason, she doesn't fight very much with him. She always backs down. Only a few seconds pass before she gets up and stomps off to her room, slamming the door.

I sigh. "I'm sorry. We've had a rough morning."

My father steps in front of me, and my goose bumps intensify. He announces, "There's been an accident."

"With who?"

More sympathy crosses his face. "Pina and Tristano."

I stare at him in shock, not understanding why they would be together. She works for Dante, not Tristano.

He continues, "It was on his motorcycle. The Abruzzos chased then sideswiped them. They left Tristano for dead and took off with Pina."

My hand flies to my mouth. My stomach turns so fast, bile rises in my throat. I swallow it down and fret, "Where is she?"

---