Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
That motherfucking coward. He couldn’t even look us in the eyes while pulling the trigger. Like he always used us to do his dirty work, he paid someone else to do his killing.
I shake with the emotions I try to contain. For this reason, I didn’t interrogate Cossu myself. I would’ve killed him too easily, long before he talked. The task of torturing him was safer in my uncles’ hands.
My voice is miraculously calm. Steady. “Is he conscious?”
“Yes,” Toma says, sneering. “The bastard is praying. Gianni is keeping an eye on him.”
“Good.”
Leaving them in the study, I go to the basement to finish the job.
Chapter
Three
Sabella
* * *
Angelo still dominates my mind a week later when I visit Mattie in Stellenbosch. Mom is there for the weekend. Dad couldn’t make it because he’s drowning in work.
When I called my dad after the incident in the library, he didn’t mention anything about the accident. I couldn’t ask him without confessing how I learned about the news. As I can’t explain Roch’s presence, I had to contend myself with what I could find on media sites.
Apparently, the late Mrs. Russo lost control of the car she drove and plunged down a cliff. Both mother and daughter were killed on impact.
I dared to bring it up in a conversation with Ryan, saying that I saw the news, but he told me in his typical stoic manner not to make it my business, and then he changed the subject.
Angelo never replied to my message, not that I expected him to. That wasn’t the objective. The double funeral was only two days ago. I took the bracelet they’d given me for my sixteenth birthday from my jewelry box. I haven’t worn it since my seventeenth birthday, since the day Angelo betrayed me. No. Since the day I discovered he betrayed me. He’d been betraying me long before then. He manipulated me right from the start. He used me to steal incriminating evidence from our house to blackmail Dad into signing over a part of his business to the Russo family. I don’t know why I haven’t returned the bracelet to Angelo. After everything that happened, I should’ve, but now is hardly the time.
“You look far away,” Mattie says, sinking into one of her art deco chairs in a sunny spot in the lounge and resting a hand over her stomach.
Attempting a smile, I say, “I was just thinking. How are you feeling?”
“Ugh.” Her grin is rueful. “Do you really want to know?”
Mom enters with a tray of rooibos tea and rusks that she puts on the coffee table. “The nausea will disappear at the end of the first trimester.”
“If I’m lucky,” Mattie says. “Celeste was queasy for the whole nine months.”
“Celeste just wanted sympathy from Ryan.”
“Mom,” I say. “That’s not nice, and you know it’s not true.”
Mattie laughs. “Well, if that was the case, it worked. She only had to say the word craving, and Ryan jumped.”
“Do you blame him?” I ask. “He’s crazy about Celeste. Jared must be the same with you, Mattie.”
She sighs. “He tries.”
“Yup. I didn’t exactly peg him as the romantic type.”
“He’ll go to the store if I tell him to,” Mattie says. “He just won’t take the initiative himself.”
My mom hands Mattie a cup of tea. “When I was pregnant, your father never pampered me. He was proud, of course, but in those days, men weren’t as involved as they are today. Women just had to get on with it while men built their empires and played golf.”
“Dad isn’t that bad,” Mattie says. “He’s always been very present in our lives.”
“With you kids, yes.” Mom sniffs. “I only regret one thing, and that’s not making a life for myself. When your father and I got married, I sacrificed having a career so that he could start his business. Now that all of you left the house, I’m sorry I never did anything for myself.”
Mattie sips her tea. “What job would you have chosen?”
Mom sighs and turns a wistful gaze to the window. “I always wanted to be a pediatrician, but it’s too late for that.”
“How about taking up natural medicine?” I ask. “You can get a diploma in four years. One of Colin’s friends is doing a correspondence course, and he’s loving it.”
“I’m fifty years old.” Mom picks up her cup, lifting a pinky in the air. “That ship, I’m afraid, has sailed.”
“There’s always voluntary work in the medical field,” Mattie says. “There’s no shortage of possibilities in the area.”
Mom shakes her head. “It’s not the same.”
“What about you, Mattie?” I ask to change the subject. Continuing with the discussion will only end up with Mom becoming depressed. She’ll make a decision that works for her when the time is right. She always does. Regurgitating things she can’t change doesn’t help.
“What about me?” Mattie asks.