2 ◆ A Fresh Start ◆

New York

◇ KEL ◇

Power through. Mind over matter.

"You escaped death. You're invincible."

Those words became the pretentious mental conditioning I fed my traumatized brain for weeks on end, until I was able to shut off the dreadful memories and my life felt normal again. Somewhat normal at least.

I had to. Otherwise I might've ended up in a psychiatric ward. Alone. Ill. Ensnared and paralyzed by evil thoughts and horrifying images of that night.

I had to fight it all off and push through with my life. I kept telling myself that I was fine. That I was past it. Until it eventually became the reality in my mind.

The pretense became loathsome and felt ridiculous at times, but... It was necessary. My family shouldn't know what happened back in San Pietro. My mother would go berserk. No doubt they'd push me to press charges against the perpetrator.

It would entangle Enzo into the whole mess. He'd be dragged into the investigation and might even have to testify in court against his brother.

I didn't want any of that to happen. It would only ruin my plans. I was almost done with med school. My priorities were my studies. My career goals.

Everything else was secondary. White noise.

At this point I just wanted to forget that night on the island. Push the memories to the back of my mind. b

Bury them somewhere deep.

I had to move on with my life.

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"Yeah. I know. But... Right now, with our classes and trainings and everything, I don't think I can." I reclined and ignored the passengers rushing past me while I adjusted the headphones.

Miles' new ones. He let me borrow them after giving me this new phone. Another traceable gadget Nicco had already configured, most likely. "Ricchar hired him in '05," Miles went on as if he didn't hear me. "Guy's a good lawyer. You don't have to pay for anything. Just talk to him. Tell him everything. He'll take care of the rest."

"Miles..."

"What?" He scoffed, his eagerness almost making me reconsider. "I'll forward everything. The videos. Photos. Your statement. You don't have to do anything. Just talk to him on the phone if he calls you this week."

I took a deep breath. Some of it was a lie, and I knew which part wasn't 100% true. But I didn't want to just say no to his encouraging words.

Miles just wanted to help me.

I gripped my phone, my hands and back already sweating. "But we didn't even file an official complaint."

"Not yet."

Only his cousin Ricchar, Miles' ex-boyfriend Niccolo, Enzo, then Mr. Falco and his wife knew about what happened on the island. I doubted anyone else would hear about that night anytime soon. "Hey. Um... Could you... I-I don't want anyone else to know."

Miles only sighed on the other line.

"Please. Just for now."

"We got more than enough witnesses," Miles continued, his tone still too serious. "That girl in the beach house and the other guards saw your cuts and bruises, too. Your blood was all over the fuckin' boat."

Exaggeration. My injuries weren't that severe. The drugs hadn't completely worn off. My neck and legs ached, but I wasn't even limping. Some foundation, a face mask, sweatshirts and long pants covered up everything just fine. "I'm okay. Really. Stop worrying."

"At least talk to the lawyer."

"I'm sorry." I bit on my thumb, my chest tight. "Thank you, but, I just can't right now." I sat back, glancing around the bus, just waiting for the trip to be over. "You know I can't just take some time off to... But thank you. Really."

"Mykaela, just talk to the guy on the phone."

"Can't we just deal with it later? Please? I just really wanna...get everything done and graduate." I didn't even want to tell my mom or sister about the Tomassinis.

Miles sighed louder and cussed in Italian.

The anxiety twisted my insides as I waited for him to say something else.

He still wanted me to ask his family's lawyer to represent me in court and help me pursue legal action against the Tomassini crime boss.

But if I had to beg Miles every single day to just let it all go, I would. I just didn't have the time or courage, or even the willpower to deal with the whole thing. "Please? Not now. I-I just can't put schoolwork on hold and..."

"Fine," he conceded after a lengthy silence, his tone grim.

What did he exactly mean by 'fine'?

"Finish everything first. Get your degree. We'll deal with it later," was his half-meant compromise.

"Thank you." I sighed loudly in relief.

"Don't ever think I'll just forget about it."

I smiled for a second. "Gotta go. Call me soon." I hung up first, just so he wouldn't have another chance to talk me into agreeing to his plans.

When I boarded that early morning flight, I left him at the airport with a heavy heart, some tears, and a bit of hope.

Like Miles said, I should go back home and focus on myself. Return to my routine if I thought it would be in my best interest.

Thankfully, only Miles and his mom wanted me to file charges. No one else in the Falco clan tried convincing me to do something about the whole thing. Except forget it like that night never happened.

I left Italy weeks ago. I still missed him most days, although I understood that Miles had important responsibilities to fulfill. As the only child and rightful heir to his parents' thriving businesses, he just had to do it.

Jeez. Not once did I think he would be working for his family, back when I was living with him in his countryside house. But as it turned out, he's actually capable of handling a demanding, time-consuming corporate job. In charge of client relations, at that.

"It's just not what I imagined you'd be doing for a living," I'd told him once or twice.

Like me, Miles was introverted, preferred working by himself. But it seemed he was serious about his new job and newfound career working for the Falcos. He even told me he no longer had the time or motivation to paint. Too busy with his corporate duties day in and day out.

It made me worry about his health even more. His mental and physical health. Miles wasn't the type of friend to ask for help, but I knew he needed it. His pride and preference for solitude had already left a dent in our friendship before, so I had to make him promise that he would be more communicative now. That he wouldn't leave me in the dark again.

I made him promise to call me whenever he needed to talk to someone. "Just want you to be happy, and healthy," was my final words before I said goodbye to him back at the airport in Italy.

Miles said he wanted the same for me, but he didn't quite understand that I had different issues. That, for me, it wasn't going to be easy at all. I was trying hard, though...because I had to.

The world didn't revolve around me and my problems. I had to keep going and focus on the positives. Keep striving towards my goals.

I had to do it for myself. For my family. No buts and excuses. I just had to.

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"Sweetie, you home now?"

I switched the call to speaker mode after I stared at my mother's angelic features on my phone screen. I kinda missed her company, even though it had only been a week since I last spent time with her. Schoolwork was keeping me too busy again to have time for her and everything else. "Yeah, Mom. You just got home? How you feelin'?"

"Yeah." Mommy Tilda breathed a lengthy sigh on the other end. "My migraine's back, but, I'll live. How was your test?"

"Fine," I replied, although in reality, I wasn't sure whether I passed the physical examination we had to complete this afternoon. We had to comply before we could proceed with our list of trainings this year. Electives, mostly. "No issues or anything."

"Good. Good," my mom replied in a muted tone. "I'll drop by tomorrow after your shift. We can go shopping if you want."

Shopping? Why?

I made a face at her suggestion, knowing we still had a list of bills and credit card loans to pay off before the year ended. But I also knew my mother treated shopping like a therapy session. Retail therapy almost always got rid of her migraines, in fact.

"Mm-kay," I murmured while I rested on my bed with my phone lying beside my face. "How's Jill?"

"She's with David now. They're planning to take Meesha to London next month. Meet her grandparents there."

"Oh. Okay." I let out a sigh, feeling the fatigue kicking in. I glanced at the time on my phone's digital clock. It was almost dinnertime. But I was too tired and lazy to fix myself a meal.

Sometimes I really wished my mom had the time to visit me every day just so I'd have someone around to talk to. Someone who would cook me good, healthy meals to keep me sane. Too bad she still had to work her ass off just to pay the bills.

It made me feel guilty most of the time. Because she wasn't getting any younger and here I was, still not a productive member of society.

In fact, I was only adding to her headaches because of my ballooning tuition fees. I should try my hardest to graduate soon. Then get a steady job at a hospital nearby. Help my mom pay off debts. Maybe then I would no longer feel this insignificant and anxious about our future.

"Sweetie, I gotta make some calls. Eat something and get lots of sleep. Okay?"

"Okay. See you. G'night."

"Mykaela, don't skip dinner again."

"Mm-hmm," was my half-meant reply before I hung up. My eyelids felt heavier. I let out a yawn, letting the grogginess take over my thoughts. Food could wait. Right now, sleep was more important than anything else.

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New Chat

from: ***6023***

"K it's Nicco. If Ilya contacts you, don't meet up with him. Talk over the phone but DO NOT agree to meet up."

Today 19:39

The text was from an unregistered number. Italian area code?. I didn't have many friends in Italy, and not one of them knew my other nickname. My friends and acquaintances in the modeling industry usually knew me as "Kel Nielsen" or just "Kel". Only my mom, my sister, and her husband called me "K".

Could this really be Niccolo? Was he doing okay? Why was he using a new number? Was he trying to keep it secret from the Falcos that he was communicating with me and warning me about Ilya?

Was Ilya planning something? Did he want to meet up with me again?

My heart started beating faster. I stared at the screen, reading the message over and over. I took off my face mask and leaned against the cold locker door. My classmates were still in the examination room, finishing a sit-in OPD consult.

If it was actually Niccolo trying to warn me about Ilya again, I should call Nicco to make sure he was okay. What did he really mean in his text? I tried calling the number.

No answer.

I tried again, but my call didn't get through. Should I just text the number? I dithered and stood alone next to the locker. The changing room smelled of some strong antiseptic, like always.

Why send me another cryptic message? It could only be Niccolo Vinciguerra, insisting that I avoid Ilya and never meet up with the man again. Why? Did he think Ilya would do something bad to me? His own flesh and blood? His only daughter?

That's if Niccolo was telling the truth...about me being Ilya's only daughter among his four children.

Wow. For 25 years, I thought Jill was my only sibling. Apparently, I had three half-brothers whose first names I didn't even know. Yet. I'd been planning to do more research on Ilya the past weeks. But schoolwork and trainings were taking up most of my time and energy.

So far the only things I knew about him were:

1) His real birth name was "Ilija Mihajlović" and he named me "Sofija Mihajlović" when I was born, as stated on the old birth records Niccolo sent me last year.

2) Ilya has three sons whose last names might also be Mihajlović.

3) Ilya could also be the head or "alpha" of a vampire clan hailing from Serbia, which would make me his first and only half-vampire half-human daughter—if the Falcos' hunches were right.

4) Like Miles' father, Ilya is also heavily involved with the mafia families in Europe. Allegedly.

5) Ilya, together with the Božićs, owns a legitimate oil shipping business in Russia, and he did business with Mr. Falco a while back, but their partnership didn't last long.

6) Ilya still has unresolved grudges with Mr. Falco, and Ilya allegedly tried to get Ricchar killed in an ambush.

Being Miles' cousin and one of Mr. Falco's most trusted, Ricchar was the real target of the gruesome assassination plot. Instead of Ricchar, it was Cloe (his wife) and Enzo Tomassini who got fatally injured in that ambush back in Umbria, Italy.

That happened almost a year ago. To our relief, Cloe and Enzo survived the car collision and the deadly shootout after I helped stabilize their vitals while waiting for the paramedics to arrive. My relationship with the Falcos and Enzo had never been simple ever since.

Distracted, I tried texting the number to ask if it was really Nicco. If it was actually him, Niccolo would reply to me ASAP. Hopefully he was doing fine and safe in Italy with Miles. Hopefully they weren't in any kind of trouble.

I made up a short prayer in my head and left the changing room.

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