I slam my locker closed and hold my books close to my chest. “Yes. I don’t know. But this is my dad we’re talking about.” Betty follows me down the long corridor and up the stairs to our first class.

“Right, I get that. Your Papi, the capo of the Sic—” I glare at her and her mouth slams shut. It’s not that I ever told Betty about my father, it was that she grew up around me so she came to learn it. With weird men walking in and out of our home and all of our money and cars, fancy holiday homes, and private jet, she figured it out.

“Hey, Ruby!” A girl walks past, waving. I smile at her.

“Morning, Rubs!” Jake Bishop smirks at me, twirling a basketball on his finger.

I flash him a smile.

“I know,” I say to Betty. “So that’s what makes me nervous about the whole damn thing.” I follow her through the science lab, dropping my books onto the table toward the back of the class.

“Okay, so how about a distraction?” Betty folds her long leg over the other, brushing her straight blonde hair over one slender shoulder. “How about we go to a party tonight—since it is Friday—and you invite your orphan lamb?”

“I don’t know…” I ignore her insensitive comment about Poppy. “I don’t know if that’s her scene, and her brother seems really overprotective of her.”

“And?” Betty leans onto her empty desk, ignoring the fact that the rest of us already have our books and laptops out. “You’re, like, the most protected girl I’ve ever known and even you have a life.” Mr. Winsor rushes in like a wind of chaos. He’s always late to class. Betty whispers under her breath, “Just ask. Seriously.”

Parking my Tesla at the side entrance of the house, I stare up to where two soldiers stand with AKs strapped across their suit-covered chests. I don’t have a lot to do with them. Mainly because both of my parents drilled it into my head that they work for us. It came naturally after a while.

Pushing through the double wooden doors, I drop my bag near the side table, pausing when I notice Papa and Wicked chatting near the stairwell. He looks different to what he did last night, and I don’t just mean the fact that he’s no longer wearing bloody clothes.

“Principessa, how was school?” Papa pulls me beneath his arm and I sigh, resting my head against his chest as he places a gentle kiss on my head. Papa would always be my comfort, but just because I need him as my father does not mean my mother should tolerate his lifestyle as a husband. I can love them both equally without needing them to be together.