Chapter 118 The knock that followed
Lina’s POV
“I want him out of our lives.” The words came out quieter than I expected, but they carried weight, heavy enough to still the air in the room.
Mom and Dad both looked at me, their expressions tightening in unison. I could see it in their eyes—the fear they were trying so hard to hide.
“And for that,” I continued, forcing steadiness into my voice, “I’ll have to wait till morning.”
The clock on the wall ticked faintly behind us, each second stretching longer than it should.
“It’s already late. I’m not stepping out tonight. I can’t leave the girls with just…” I glanced between them, softening slightly. “With everything going on.”
Mom’s lips parted, but she didn’t interrupt.
“Romy and Tina are in school,” I added, pacing slowly now, my hands clasped together. “There’s no one else. It’s just me.”
Dad shifted his weight, folding his arms loosely, but his eyes stayed fixed on me.
“So listen carefully,” I said, stopping in front of them. “For the next few days, you both are staying here.”
Mom frowned slightly. “Lina—”
“You’re not leaving the house without telling me exactly where you’re going,” I cut in, my tone firm. “And you don’t open the door for anyone. Not unless you’ve checked who it is.”
Dad raised a brow. “We’re not children—”
“I know,” I said quickly, softer this time, stepping closer. “I know you’re not. But he is unpredictable. And I won’t risk it.”
Mom’s gaze dropped briefly, then returned to mine.
“I’ll fix a camera by tomorrow,” I added, quieter now, almost pleading. “Please… just trust me on this.”
A beat passed.
Then Mom nodded slowly.
“Alright.”
Dad let out a breath through his nose, reluctant but accepting. “Fine.”
Relief brushed against my chest—but it didn’t settle.
“Until I deal with Ruciano,” I continued, my voice lowering, “I don’t want either of you getting caught in anything he might try.”
I opened my mouth to say more—
Knock.
The sound sliced through the room.
Sharp. Sudden.
Everything inside me dropped.
My body went cold so fast it felt like my blood had been replaced with ice. My heart slammed hard against my ribs, then seemed to sink… dragging everything with it.
Mom’s eyes widened instantly.
Dad instinctively stepped forward.
“Dad—” My voice came out sharper than intended.
He paused.
“You can’t go there,” I said, moving in front of him. “I’ll check it.”
His jaw tightened. “Lina—”
“I can’t lose you,” I said, quieter now, but firm enough to stop him completely. “Not to him.”
That did it. He stepped back.
Another knock came.
This time… faster. Impatient.
Like whoever stood outside was running out of patience.
Or losing control.
My throat went dry.
It’s him.
There was no doubt in my mind.
My hands trembled slightly as I walked toward the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. I could feel their eyes on me—Mom’s worry, Dad’s silent fear—but I didn’t look back.
I reached the door. Placed my hand on the knob. It was damp.
I swallowed hard.
“Who is it?” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady.
Silence.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
Harder.
My pulse spiked.
Definitely him.
I straightened slightly, forcing a mask over my face—something firm, something unshaken. Even if it was a lie.
Slowly, I turned the knob and pulled the door open.
I froze.
“…Victor?” Annoyance hit me almost instantly, sharp and unwelcome. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice dropping. “I told you to leave earlier.”
He stood there, disheveled. His hair messy, his eyes slightly red, like he hadn’t stopped thinking since he left.
“I just—” he started.
I exhaled sharply, already turning to shut the door. “I don’t want to hear—”
His hand shot out, stopping it. “Lina, please.”
I paused, irritation crawling up my spine.
“I’m sorry,” he rushed out. “I didn’t know what came over me. The way he was talking to you—I couldn’t just stand there and—”
“Victor,” I cut in, my voice low, restrained. “Leave.”
He didn’t move. I pushed the door again, but he held it firm. Suddenly—
His hand dropped.
To my leg.
“Please,” he said, his voice cracking. “Forgive me.”
My entire body stiffened. “Don’t do that,” I snapped, pulling back instinctively. “Let go.”
But he didn’t.
“Lina, I can’t—”
“Let go!” I kicked slightly, trying to free myself, panic and disgust rising together.
I didn’t even realize when I pushed him—
Until he stumbled backward and fell.
The sound of his back hitting the ground made my chest tighten. For a second, everything stilled. Regret flickered. I stepped forward slightly, then stopped myself.
No. I shouldn’t. If I bent now, he’d push further.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice more controlled this time, colder. “I didn’t mean to push you.”
Victor sat up slowly, wincing a little before shaking his head quickly.
“It’s fine,” he said, almost too fast. “It’s completely fine.”
He got to his feet, brushing himself off, his gaze softening as it met mine again. “I just… I need you to forgive me,” he said, quieter now. “I won’t be able to sleep if you’re still mad at me.”
Something in my chest twisted. It wasn't love. Nor was it even affection.
Just… guilt.
I sighed softly. “Victor…”
Tears slipped down his cheeks.
“I’m serious,” he added, almost whispering. “I can’t stand the thought of you being angry at me.”
I hesitated.
Before forcing ca small smile.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I forgive you.”
His face lit up instantly. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “I’m sure.”
He let out a breath, like he’d been holding it the entire time.
“Okay,” I added quickly, before he could say anything else. “You should go home.”
His expression faltered slightly.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I continued, gentler now, but final.
A pause.
Then he nodded.
“Okay.”
He smiled—warm, hopeful.
It used to mean something.
Now… it just felt heavy.
Victor had been my first friend when I moved to California. Back when everything was unfamiliar, when I needed something—someone—steady.
He had been that.
Until he wasn’t.
Until three years later, when everything changed.
When he changed.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said softly.
I nodded once. Watching him leave. Only when he was out of sight did I close the door. The click echoed louder than it should have.
I turned back.
Mom and Dad stood a few steps away, their voices low, mid-conversation.
They stopped when they saw me.
“Lina—” Mom started.
“Please,” I cut in immediately knowing what she was already going to say. “Don’t.”
She hesitated.
“Victor loves—”
“Mom.”
The single word was enough. Her lips pressed together, and she nodded slowly.
“Alright.”
We let it go.
Dinner came quietly.
It was way too quiet. We never had dinner in this kind of stillness for years. The clinking of cutlery filled the space where laughter should have been. Rotha sat beside me, unusually still. Erla didn’t even look up. That hurt more than anything.
I set my fork down slowly.
“Babies…” I called softly.
No response.
My chest tightened.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice gentler now. “For yelling earlier.”
Rotha glanced up first.
“I didn’t mean it,” I added, trying to smile. “Mama was just… overwhelmed.”
“We love you, mama,” Rotha said softly.
Relief flickered—
“But…” her voice wavered slightly, “…when you yell, it scares us.”
That hit.
Hard.
I reached for her hand immediately. “I’m sorry, my baby.”
Then I turned to Erla.
She didn’t look at me.
“Erla?” I called gently.
Nothing.
She kept eating.
Slow. Quiet.
Deliberate.
A small frown formed on my lips.
“Are you still angry with mama?”
Silence.
I sighed softly.
“I’ll make it up to you,” I said, leaning slightly toward her. “Hmm?”
She paused.
“I don’t like it when you shout,” she muttered, barely audible.
That made me feel something I couldn't name. Was it her being possessive? Erla has always been the smartest one amongst the two of them. Rotha wasn't dumb, but she wasn't as smart as Erla. Erla had this high IQ, like her father. Erla always reminded me of Carlino in one way or the other l. That's why even after all these years I couldn't forget him. My love for him didn't wither away.
“I know,” I replied softly. “And I won’t do it again.”
She didn’t respond. But she didn’t pull away either. That was something.
I leaned back slightly, exhaling.
“Carlino’s carbon copy,” I murmured under my breath, a faint smile touching my lips.
Mom chuckled lightly.
Dad shook his head.
The tension eased—just a little.
But not enough.
I picked up my fork again, then set it down.
No.
This couldn’t wait.
“Mom. Dad.”
They both looked at me.
“I’m going to the police station tomorrow morning.” The words settled over the table like a storm about to break. “I’ll lodge an official complaint against Ruciano, so he can get off our backs.”