Chapters (43)
- Cover
- ABOUT THIS BOOK
- VITTORIA
- AMADEO
- BASTIAN
- VITTORIA
- AMADEO
- BASTIAN
- AMADEO
- VITTORIA
- AMADEO
- VITTORIA
- AMADEO
- VITTORIA
- BASTIAN
- AMADEO
- VITTORIA
- BASTIAN
- AMADEO
- VITTORIA
- BASTIAN
- VITTORIA
- BASTIAN
- VITTORIA
- AMADEO
- BASTIAN
- VITTORIA
- VITTORIA
- AMADEO
- VITTORIA
- VITTORIA
- AMADEO
- BASTIAN
- VITTORIA
- AMADEO
- VITTORIA
- EPILOGUE 1
- EPILOGUE 2
- EPILOGUE 3
- BONUS EPILOGUE
- WHAT TO READ NEXT
- ALSO BY NATASHA KNIGHT
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
And tears spill from my eyes as I remember the man I knew. The one who loved me. Only me. The one who put this photo of his girls where he wouldn’t have to see it day in and day out. Who, by the end, couldn’t stand to look at Mom if I’m being honest. And Mom, who, by the end, cowered from him. It all makes sense, I think, as I look down onto the small screen of my phone and see Mom’s face, see Mom in the arms of a stranger. Mom happy. It all fits.
The library door opens, and I jump, quickly dropping the phone into my bag and standing, wiping my eyes, looking as guilty as I feel. It’s Hyacinth, and she startles. I don’t know if it’s because she found me in here or the state I’m in.
“Vittoria. Are you okay? Has something happened?”
I wipe my eyes and shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” I look behind her for Emma but she’s alone.
“I told Emma I’d look for you to read to her. She was up early and upset you weren’t there when she woke up.”
“God. Of course, she was. I didn’t even realize the time. I’ll go right up.”
“I’ll get us some coffee and meet you up there. She’s setting her stuffed animals and dolls up for a tea party. All of them.” She rolls her eyes but is smiling warmly.
I love the innocence of the act. “Thanks, Hyacinth.”
She nods even though she looks worried. I give her hand a squeeze and head up to Emma’s bedroom as she disappears into the kitchen.
But as I’m approaching her bedroom door, I hear it. The chopper landing. They’re back. I’m out of time. I hurry into Emma’s room and find her at the window, watching as the chopper lands. It’s so stark and loud against the peaceful backdrop of the sun rising. But it’s what I see, or more who I see, spilling out of the chopper that silences me, that has me grabbing Emma’s hand hard as, from downstairs, we hear the sounds of men. A lot of men. And gunfire.
Because it’s not the brothers who have returned. These are soldiers.
I turn to Emma and see the tea party she was preparing in the large walk-in closet. See all the stuffed animals taking up the entire back wall.