Chapter 147

POV Emília Gray

**Four years ago**

I didn’t meet Dante after that day.

I wish I could say that he was avoiding me because then I would be certain that Faulkner knew of my presence, of my doubts about what had happened, but the reality was different.

Dante was despising me.

It was as if I were a part of his life that never happened.

In the first few weeks, he still smiled at me discreetly at school. He didn’t show up at our meetings anymore, nor did he make any excuses for abandoning me, but at least his eyes still managed to speak a little with mine.

Now it had changed. Dante was treating me like anyone else.

Every thought I replayed in my head came with a heavy sigh from me. I made plans to try to understand where I had gone wrong and how to fix it. Dante was extremely important to me, but sometimes I wondered if it was mutual. If he too would have angels defending my demons.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the TV. The news was the same, but this time, the victim was someone else.

"Did the president's secretary disappear?" I asked, confused.

"There’s a new wave of disappearances in this city.

Security is failing. We need to be careful."

My father was sitting across from me, having his breakfast.

"There’s something very wrong going on. This can't be normal," I commented.

Crime in the city was increasing every day. Since the kidnapping with Dante and the guys, the streets had become increasingly dangerous.

"Yes, but unfortunately the world is run by evil people," my mom added.

We were all eating together at the same table, which was a miracle or some kind of glitch in the Matrix. My parents were busier than the devil’s errands in hell, because besides managing the hospital, they had several meetings about the city’s businesses.

"It’s not normal, so be careful," Dad reinforced. "Don’t trust strangers, don’t go to dark places, and especially don’t stay out late. I want you home before dark."

I sighed.

"I know how to take care of myself."

"Great, sweetheart. But your confidence isn’t enough for times like these," he stated. "Since you don’t have classes today, do you want to come to the hospital with us?"

I occupied my mouth with more cereal, taking my time to avoid paying too much attention to the news.

"I have to practice for the piano exam and the performance next week."

"You don’t need to practice so much, love. You’re good at what you do," Mom said, cutting her bread.

"If I were that good, they would’ve already called me for a conservatory."

"Maybe your calling isn’t music, sweetheart. You have many talents, and I know one of them is becoming the best surgeon in the country, director of Othello, and being part of a unique society. It’s in your genes," Dad tried to encourage me.

"I love music and I would like to work with it forever. Not being a doctor, Dad. You think I’m cut out for this, but the truth is I’m not."

"Don’t say that. Even your teachers made sure to write a letter of recommendation to the best universities as soon as you finish school. We all believe in you." My mom gave me a gentle smile and patted my shoulder. "You need focus."

I fell silent to end the topic. They were sure that my calling was to follow in their footsteps. However, I had already made it clear that medicine wasn’t for me. And if I ever applied to a health college, it would be completely against my will.

I used to talk a lot about these uncertainties with Dante. He was someone with no clear goals for the future. I didn’t fully believe what came out of his mouth. A vague part of him made it seem like Faulkner was just afraid of the future and what he might face, so he preferred to think he didn’t control it, and that anything coming from him wouldn’t carry his guilt.

It was an intelligent way of looking at things, I admitted. I wished I didn’t have to take time from my present to reflect on the consequences of what might come the next day, next week, in a year, or in a decade. But I had to do it.

"Are you at least ready for the performance?" Mom interrupted my thoughts.

I shrugged.

"As much as possible, yes."

"Did you invite anyone else besides us?"

"Kayleen."

Of course, I had also invited Dante, but he turned me down right away. I was sure I hadn’t even finished asking.

Since it was a performance in a theater that would be packed with people because it was celebrating something related to the city’s politics, I understood his refusal. I just didn’t like it.

"You need to stop depending on Kayleen Cullbert," my dad began, his aggressive tone scraping through every syllable. "In fact, I don’t understand why you’re still friends with her."

"Dad, we’ve known each other forever, and you’re friends with your parents. What are you talking about?"

"Your friends should be different. It’s a pity Arya left. She was perfect for you."

"Arya was an idiot to me. She humiliated me."

"Errors happen. I’m sure you weren’t always a good friend either," he cut in, still firm and cold, almost as if pushing me to stay in my place. "The fault is mine, actually. The school you’re in doesn’t live up to what I expected for you. Especially after they let those idiots in."

"Honey!" my mom warned, ending my dad’s ridiculous speech. "Let’s calm down. It’s no one’s fault. The school is good. Emilia is great. She has a bright future ahead. I also agree that Kayleen is a great person for her. Gymnast, good student, outgoing, and very well-mannered. Plus, our daughter knows how to choose her friends." My mom’s amber eyes rested on me. "You know very well those boys are bad company. They’re horrible. It’s unacceptable they’re not in a psychiatric hospital or even in prison."

My heart weighed with every damn word spoken about Dante and his friends. I knew Faulkner. Nothing they said about him was true.

My stomach revolted at the idea of being the only one defending him and believing in his goodness. My desire was to protect him from how the world saw him, and how I wanted everyone to be lucky enough to see him.

"I need to go."

I stood up from the table, still with half a bowl of milk, and took it to the dishes.

My body felt like it was carrying tons of regret. A strong desire to talk to him buried me. Since Dante wouldn’t come, I would go after him.