Chapter 171

Chapter 171
Marisa pulled me inside the restaurant, her warm hand gentle around my wrist as she led me past the curious stares of customers. My cheeks burned from the encounter with Matteo, his cold dismissal still ringing in my ears. She guided me to a small corner table, hidden from the main dining area.

"Sit," she ordered softly, sliding into the seat across from me. "You look like you're about to collapse."

I sank into the chair, my body suddenly heavy with exhaustion. Matteo and Diana left the cafe after he was done reminding me how I am the reason his brother is not here with us today.

Through the window, I watched Matteo help Diana into his sleek black car.

Matteo's eyes found mine through the window. For a brief moment, I thought I saw something flicker in them—regret, perhaps—but it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it. He slammed the car door and disappeared behind the tinted glass.

"Hey." Marisa snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Don't let them get to you."

"Too late," I muttered, turning away from the window as Matteo's car pulled out of the lot.

"You know what I think?" Marisa leaned forward, her green eyes intense. "I think you're a victim too, Beatrice."

I scoffed. "I'm not a victim."

"Aren't you?" She tilted her head. "Franco forced you to sleep with him, didn't he? He threatened you, blackmailed you into doing what he wanted. No matter what excuse you make for that night, he did wrong."

"It doesn't matter," I said, my fingernails digging into my palms. "I should have found another way."

"Sometimes there is no other way," Marisa replied, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Sometimes men like Franco take and take until there's nothing left to give." Something in her tone made me wonder if she was speaking from experience.

"Franco needs to die," I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Marisa didn't look shocked by my declaration. Instead, she nodded slowly, as if she'd been expecting it.

"Sometimes," I continued, sliding down in my seat until my back hit the wall, "you have to sacrifice everything for the people you love. Enzo understood that. He sacrificed himself for me, and now..." My voice broke.

Marisa reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "Why don't you go home and rest? I'll cover your shift. You look like you haven't slept in days."

"I haven't," I admitted. The dark circles under my eyes had become a permanent fixture. "What about your dad?"

Marisa's expression hardened. "Probably passed out drunk somewhere. He will not return for another few hours, anyway." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Don't worry about him. Just take care of yourself, okay?"

I stood up, suddenly desperate to be alone. "Thank you, Marisa. For everything."

She smiled, the gesture warming her tired face. "That's what friends are for, right?"

I hugged her tightly, grateful for this one person who seemed to genuinely care about me, then slipped out the back door.

The walk home was short, but each step felt heavy. Sofia had "sold" me to Ezra, knowing full well what kind of man he was. The thought made my stomach churn. What mother would do that to her daughter?

As I passed the overgrown field where I'd found that poor girl's body, fragments of memory flashed through my mind—the sickly sweet smell of decay, the horror of empty eye sockets, the way her limbs had been arranged like a discarded doll. But I didn't get lost this time. My feet knew the way home, even if my heart didn't know where home was anymore.

Sofia was sitting on the couch when I walked in, a new smartphone in her hands. She quickly tried to hide it, but not before I caught a glimpse of a video playing on the screen.

"Where did you get that?" I demanded, dropping my bag on the floor. "We can barely afford food, and suddenly you have a new phone?"

Sofia's eyes narrowed. "Don't use that tone with me."

"What did you do?" I stepped closer, my voice rising. "What did you do that makes it impossible for me to quit that job with Ezra?"

Sofia looked away, guilt flashing across her face. "I took some money from him, okay? We needed it."

"You took money," I repeated, my voice hollow. "And in exchange, you gave him... what? Me?"

"I didn't know he would try to force himself on you!" Sofia protested, standing up. "He said he just needed help with inventory."

I laughed bitterly. "Right. And you believed him."

"I did what I had to do to survive," Sofia snapped. "You have no idea what it's like out here in the real world."

"I can't understand who you really are anymore," I said, shaking my head. "One moment you're this protective mother who won't let me out of your sight, and the next, you're... this." I gestured at her, at the phone, at our squalid apartment.

"I protected you because you were worth protecting," Sofia hissed, her eyes cold. "But what's worth protecting now? You've thrown everything away for those Vasquez boys."

"You don't get to decide what I do with my body," I said, my voice trembling with rage. "You don't get to sell me to the highest bidder just because we're broke."

Sofia's hand flew up, ready to slap me, but I caught her wrist mid-air. "Don't," I warned, squeezing hard enough to make her wince. "Don't ever try to hit me again."

Something flashed in Sofia's eyes—fear, maybe, or realization that I wasn't the same scared girl I used to be. She yanked her arm free and shoved me hard. I stumbled backward, tripping over the coffee table and landing hard on the floor.

In that moment, I saw Sofia clearly for the first time—not as my mother, but as a desperate, dangerous woman who would sacrifice anything, anyone, to get what she wanted. Even me.

I scrambled to my feet and ran. Out the door, down the stairs, into the street. I didn't know where I was going, only that I needed to get away from her.

I turned into a narrow alley, a shortcut I'd discovered during my first days in the Bronx. The shadows were long, the air heavy with the scent of garbage and urine. I ran blindly, tears blurring my vision, until my foot caught on something solid, sending me sprawling onto the dirty pavement.

Cursing, I turned to see what had tripped me. Another body. Another victim abandoned in this godforsaken neighborhood.

Only this time, as I crawled backward to put distance between myself and the corpse, I recognized the face beneath the decay and bruising.

"Enzo," I whispered, horror washing over me like ice water.