FOUR
SOPHIA
The bedroom door crashes open and Dad stumbles in, eyes bloodshot and swimming with tears, the stink of alcohol hitting me like a wall.
He collapses to his knees, sobs racking his chest, hands trembling uncontrollably.
“Dad?” I leap from the bed, alarmed. “What happened?”
His voice is cracked and raw. “I messed up—bad. We’ve got to leave. Wake your sister. Now.”
I stand frozen, my heart plummeting as he staggers to his feet and stumbles into his room. He yanks a suitcase from under the bed and starts haphazardly throwing clothes into it like a man trying to outrun fate.
“We’re out of time,” he says frantically. “Pack what you need. We’re gone in three minutes.”
"What did you do?" My voice is tight with disbelief. “We got served an eviction notice this morning because you haven’t paid rent in three months. I lost my job today because you've been sneaking drinks and putting them on my tab. And a guy with a gun climbed through my bedroom window looking for you. What the hell is going on?”
“You think I don’t know all that?” he snaps, eyes darting around the room. “But none of that matters anymore. We stay, we die. Luca Morretti is coming for me. Now are you coming or not?”
“What about Tess?” I say, my voice rising. “You know she can’t just get up and leave like this.”
He stops, suitcase half-full, and finally meets my eyes. “Then she gets left behind. I don’t have a choice. I can’t stay, not now.”
My heart aches. I glance toward Tess’s door, where the soft rhythm of her sleep is still undisturbed. “We can’t leave her. You know that.”
“You stay here, you’ll be the next corpse in the hallway,” he spits, eyes wild. “God, I’m such a goddamn fool. Why did I ever agree to this?” His voice cracks again. “The guy came in through your window? Did he hurt you?”
I shake my head slowly. “No. He just wanted to know where you were. Who is he?”
“Luca Morretti. I told you.”
“That name’s supposed to mean something?”
He bolts into the kitchen, snatches the photo of Mom off the fridge, and stuffs it into his coat pocket. “He’s the head of the Italian Mafia. Most dangerous man in New York. He doesn’t give second chances.”
“And why is he after you?”
He winces. “Because I moved something for him. Something I wasn’t supposed to touch.”
I stare at him. “What does that even mean?”
“I got offered twenty grand to carry a suitcase across town. That’s all. No questions asked. They said use a cab—I didn’t have the fare. I had to walk it. Didn't know someone was watching. Jesus, I was set up.”
“What was in the suitcase?”
“I don’t know. It was locked. I didn’t open it.” He looks at me, panic etched into his features. “Now Morretti’s demanding I find the guys who hired me. He gave me twenty-four hours or he takes one of you. He said it like it was a promise.”
Just then, Tess appears in the doorway, rubbing her eyes. “What’s going on?” she mumbles. “Dad, you smell like a brewery.”
I block his path as he reaches for his suitcase again. “Tell me the truth. All of it.”
He lets out a harsh breath. “Three months ago, I bought into this ‘business deal’ with some Russians. Supposed to be a sure thing. So I emptied our rent fund and took out loans. Turned out the deal was a scam, and the loans? Mafia money.”
My stomach turns.
“I’ve been scraping to cover just the interest,” he continues. “Then last night, these two guys offer me a quick job—move a suitcase, twenty thousand dollars. It was supposed to fix everything.”
He presses his palms to his temples. “I didn’t know it was Morretti’s. God, now I’m on the run from the Russians and the Italians. I’m screwed.” He grabs the suitcase, manic energy pulsing off him. “This is your last warning. I’m leaving. Now.”
Tess’s face crumples. She clutches my hand, tears slipping down her cheeks. “Sophia, go with him. Please. I’ll be okay.”
My mind races, torn between the need to escape and the instinct to protect what’s left of our family. Dad’s already by the door, wiping at his face, muttering apologies.
“Maybe we talk to this Morretti,” I try, desperation creeping in. “Maybe he’ll listen.”
Dad laughs, a dry, hollow sound. “You think Satan takes meetings? He doesn’t listen. He just kills.”
I hesitate. “He didn’t hurt me. He had the chance, but he didn’t.”
Dad stares at me like I’ve gone mad. “Then you were lucky.”
“Stay with us, Dad,” I beg. “We can figure this out together.”
But he’s already pulling the door open. “I can’t.” His voice is thick with regret. “I’ve already done enough damage.”
He steps into the hallway and starts down the stairs, suitcase thudding behind him.
“Dad!” I call after him, but he doesn't turn back.
His voice echoes up the stairwell. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
And then he's gone.
I close the door quietly, the soft click echoing in the silence. When I turn around, Tess’s quiet sobs wrap around the room like a blanket of grief. Her voice trembles. “You should’ve gone with him. You’d be safer without me.”
I guide her gently back to her bed, slipping under the covers beside her. “Do you remember what Mom always used to say?” I ask, pulling the blanket around us.
“‘No candy until you eat your broccoli’?”
I smile. “That too. But I meant: ‘Family takes care of family.’ I’m not leaving you here alone. Besides, you’d totally ruin the way I organize my books.”
A faint smile tugs at her lips. “Sorry,” she whispers. “I wish I could go. I really do. But I can’t.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “I wish I could walk out the door without needing everything in a certain order. But I can’t either.”
She leans her head against my shoulder, letting out a long breath. “You’re too good to me.”
“None of this is your fault,” I tell her again. “What happened to you would shake anyone. You didn’t choose this.”
Her eyes meet mine, wide with a fear that’s never really gone away. “I’m terrified, Sophia. Just the idea of stepping outside… I feel like I’ll disappear.”
I squeeze her hand. “I know. And I’m sorry I haven’t done more to help you feel safe.”
Then her phone buzzes.
She picks it up, squinting at the screen. “Unknown number,” she mutters, answering it. “Hello?” She listens for a moment, then covers the speaker. Her eyes are wide. “It’s Dr. Summers. The Dr. Summers. The one in the ads. Specializes in agoraphobia. I found her website once. Her rates are insane—like, five hundred dollars an hour. She says I’ve got six months prepaid. Wants to set up a schedule. Do you know anything about this?”
Luca’s voice flashes through my mind. A therapist I trust. I’ll make a call.
I nod slowly. “Talk to her. It’s okay.” I offer her a small smile. “I’ll be just outside if you need anything.”
I leave her room, easing the door shut behind me. Her muffled voice trails through the walls, and oddly, it soothes me. She's talking. That has to mean something.
I walk back into my bedroom. It used to be a sanctuary. Now it feels like a box. A quiet, suffocating trap for my thoughts.
He did it.
He kept his word.
Luca Morretti—he broke into my room. He’s a mafia boss. Dangerous. Feared. A criminal. And yet, he helped. He arranged this for Tess. Gave her a lifeline.
My father was so terrified of him he ran.
And now we’re alone. Left behind.
Except we’re not, not really. He said he was coming back. For one of us.
My thoughts spiral into something darker, more dangerous. I imagine him—towering over me in some high-rise suite, tearing my clothes away, pushing me onto a king-sized bed. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, sliding into me, possessive and unstoppable. “So perfect. I had to take you.”
But then Dad’s words slam back into me like a punch: He’s a monster. He’s the devil. He’ll make you wish you were dead.
I don’t know which version to believe.
And that terrifies me more than anything.