Roman had left me a message. It simply read, “All the devils are on earth, why would I fear hell? We will have our peace together without you.”
I realized then that somehow he knew I would live. I wondered what he thought I had done? Gave up on my daughter and let her die? Killed all of the family and come looking for him, to save Gigi only he’d already be dead. Laughing at me because I had no options. He had killed himself and the family not for peace…but to run from me and to hurt me.
Coward.
Looking at their bodies, I hung my head, I took a deep breath, the feeling in my chest that I never thought I’d truly feel. My eyes began to burn from the tears. I couldn’t hold it back anymore.
I laughed.
I laughed from my gut.
I laughed so hard that my tears fell from my eyes.
“Thank you, all, you fucking useless pieces of shit did something good for me, for once.” I laughed. It would take an effort to spin this shit. It would take time to make people forget. But I had time. I could be patient.
They were dead.
All my fucking enemies were dead, not all of them the way I had planned, but who gave a flying fuck.
“Hahaha…ah! Merry Christmas to me! I deserve it!” Standing straighter, I exhaled in relief. “You all fucking hear me? Thank you. Truly. Now I’m going to forget you all.”
I would bury Calliope Orsini with them.
“Vengeance is mine so saith the Lord”…that quote came from Romans.
21
“Don’t promise to live forever
Promise to forever live while you’re alive.”
~Atticus
WYATT
She hadn’t gotten better.
It had been four days.
Four days that felt like four years, and no matter what I did, what I gave her, she didn’t get better. It was almost as if she refused to get better. Like she was…like she’d given up.
“Nana?” I whispered when her eyes began to open. Her eyes darted around the room.
“Ethan?”
I shook my head. It hurt. Every time she opened her eyes, she looked for Ethan. I didn’t understand why. Nor did I understand why we hadn’t heard from him, either. Not even Calliope. Though she didn’t seem in the least bit worried. She’d spent all of her time in damage control. Creating cover stories, paying off officials, meeting with the Irish and Italian families; she’d even gifted many of them whatever it was they needed, from food to new cars. One moment she was their fairy godmother, the next she was The Godmother, crushing brutally any man who dared question her order of the business. Everyone was waiting to hear from Ethan; Calliope had made it clear that they were one and the same.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” My grandmother's voice was so soft I had to lean in more to hear her. Her eyes were barely open.
“Nothing,” I lied, and she saw right through me.
She placed her hand on my face. “Calliope?”
“Nana, how are you feeling?” I asked, touching her forehead.
She didn’t answer. She just looked at me.
“Are you cold? Hot? In pain?”