⊰ 27 ⊱ A Day Like Any Other: Part 1
As I stand in the foyer, watching Marcel command his men with a sense of effortless authority, I can’t help but feel a mix of pride and apprehension. There’s an intensity in his eyes, a focus determination that I’ve never seen before. His voice is low and authoritative, each word carefully chosen, each instruction precise and unyielding. He’s in his element here, every inch the powerful mafia boss.
*This is what he was born to do.*
The thought hits me suddenly, unexpectedly. For as long as I’ve known him, Marcel has been a leader, a protector, a man who commands respect and loyalty from those around him. But seeing him like this, effortlessly taking control, the way every man in the room hangs on his every word, I can’t help but wonder…
*What will life be like when this is all over?*
Will he be able to leave this world behind, to adapt to a life of boardrooms and business deals? I can picture it so clearly in my mind—Marcel in a tailored suit, sitting at the head of a conference table, his eyes sharp and calculating as he navigates the cutthroat world of corporate politics.
*The CEO of a car parts manufacturing company, a powerful player in the insurance game…*
It’s a far cry from the life we lead now, from the blood, bullets, and constant danger. But somehow, I know he’ll thrive. He’ll rise to the top, just like he always does, because that’s who he is.
*A leader. A boss. My husband.*
My heart swells with love and pride, a warmth blooming in my chest despite the fear that threatens to consume me. I know what he’s about to do, the risks he’s about to take. It terrifies me, the thought of losing him, of something happening to him out there where I can’t reach him.
*God, please keep him safe.*
As the men start to file out, Marcel makes his way over to me, his eyes softening as they meet mine. “Hey,” he says softly, his hand coming up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my skin in a gentle caress. “You okay?”
I lean into his touch, savoring the warmth of his palm, the roughness of his calluses against my cheek. “I’m scared,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I don’t want you to go.”
He sighs, his forehead pressing against mine, his eyes drifting shut for a moment. “I know, baby. But I have to do this. It’s our only way out.”
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. I know he’s right. This is our only chance at freedom. But it doesn’t lessen the fear that grips my heart like a vice.
Impulsively, I reach up, my fingers brushing against the chain of my necklace, the small silver cross that’s been a constant comfort to me these past couple of months. I unhook the clasp, holding it out to him with a shaky hand.
“Take this,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I prayed over it.”
He hesitates, his brow furrowing. “Mercy, I can’t…”
“Please?” I insist, pressing the necklace into his palm and curling his fingers around it. “I want you to have it. To keep you safe.”
He looks down at the necklace, a small smile tugging at his lips. With a nod, he reaches up, unclasping his own chain, the one he’s worn for as long as I’ve known him. He hands it to me, his fingers brushing against mine as I take it.
With a shaky breath, I watch as he loops my necklace around his neck, fastening the clasp and letting the pendant settle against his chest, just over his heart, a small glint of silver against the stark black of his shirt. The notion gives me a sense of comfort I can’t quite explain.
“Bring it back to me, okay?” I say, my voice wavering with the effort of holding back tears.
*Come back safely to me.*
He understands, his eyes softening, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I will,” he promises, leaning in to capture my lips in a soft, sweet kiss.
The sound of someone clearing their throat breaks the moment, and we both glance over to see Rick standing near the doorway, an apologetic look on his face. “Boss, we’re ready,” he says, his voice gruff but not unkind.
Marcel nods, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. He looks every bit the formidable leader, but when he glances back at me, I can see the love and regret in his eyes.
I bring my hand up to his chest, smoothing over the front of his shirt, a feeble attempt to straighten what doesn’t need to be fixed.
“Be careful,” I murmur, my gaze holding his, trying to memorize every detail of his face, every fleck of gold in his brown eyes.
He takes my hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss to my knuckles. “Always,” he murmurs, his eyes holding mine for a long moment.
Then, he’s gone, striding out the door with Rick, Levi, Santiago, and their men, leaving me standing here with a hollow feeling in my chest and a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I can’t shake.
*Please, God. Bring him back to me.*
As the door closes behind them, I feel a warmth at my side, an arm slipping around my shoulders. I glance over to see Alessandra, her face etched with concern and understanding. “They’ll be back soon,” she assures me, giving my shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I know she means well, but inside, my mind is screaming, doubt and fear clawing at me.
*You don’t know that. You can’t promise me that.*
But I don’t say it out loud. I refuse to give voice to the dark thoughts that plague me. Instead, I force a smile, leaning into her comforting embrace.
*Keep it together. Have a little faith.*
“Hey,” Eboni calls softly, walking over to join us, waving the baby monitor in her hand. “Why don’t we watch a movie? Take advantage that baby girl’s still asleep.”
*I could use a distraction.*
I nod, mustering up a genuine smile. “That sounds perfect.”
We make our way to the media room, settling onto the leather couches. Mauricio brings us a tray of coffee and breakfast pastries, the smell of fresh brewed beans and warm, flaky dough filling the air.
“Okay, what are we watching?” Eboni asks, grabbing the remote and pulling up Netflix. “And please, for the love of God, no true crime documentaries. I can’t handle anything heavy right now.”
Alessandra chuckles, reaching for a croissant. “Agreed. I vote for something light and fun. A comedy, maybe?”
I nod, sipping at my coffee. “Something without violence,” I add, my voice soft. “Preferably PG.”
Eboni grins, scrolling through the options. “PG, huh? Okay, how about…Shrek?”
A burst of laughter escapes my lips, the sound surprising me. “Shrek? Really?”
She shrugs, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Hey, it’s a classic! I love Shrek.”
I can’t argue with that. It’s one of my all-time favorite animated movies. So we settle in, the opening notes of “All Star” filling the room as the familiar story unfolds on the screen. I try to focus on the movie—the bright colors, silly jokes, and songs.
But even as I laugh at Donkey’s antics, even as I smile at Shrek and Fiona’s budding romance, I can’t shake the unease that sits heavy in my stomach, the constant awareness of the empty space beside me where Marcel should be.
*He’s going to be fine. He has to be.*
As the movie plays on, I feel a growing need for someone to talk to, someone who can help me sort through the tangled web of doubt in my head. Before I can second-guess myself, I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Katherine.
“**Hey, I know this sort of last minute, but any chance you’re free for an impromptu session? I could really use someone to talk to right now.**”
To my surprise, her response comes almost immediately.
“**Actually, one of my patients just canceled. I can be there in 30min if that works for you.**”
Relief washes over me, and I quickly type out a reply.
“**That would be perfect. Thank you so much.**”
I set my phone aside, feeling a little bit lighter. But just as I settle back into the movie, as I start to get lost in the story, I hear it—a distant sound, muffled but unmistakable. A noise that doesn’t belong, that sets my nerves on edge and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand.
I furrow my brow, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Eboni, pause the movie.”
She does, the screen freezing on a shot of Shrek and Donkey in the forest. For a long moment, we sit in silence, straining our ears, waiting for…something.
But there’s nothing. Just the eerie quiet of the house, the distant ticking of an old, antique clock down the hall.
*Maybe I imagined it. I’m just on edge.*
I sink back into the cushions, trying to force myself to relax, but just as I lean back, out of the corner of my eye, I see Alessandra tense, her hand coming up to rest protectively on her belly.
That’s when all hell breaks loose.
The door bursts open, the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass filling the air. I scramble to my feet, my heart in my throat as two unfamiliar men barge into the room, their faces hard and their guns pointed directly at us.
I hear Eboni and Alessandra scream, and I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Shut up!” One of them barks, his eyes cold and merciless. “Get up, and walk. Now!”
I feel Alessandra’s hand grasp mine, her fingers trembling against my skin. We scramble to obey, Eboni clutching at the back of my shirt, moving closely behind me as though I’ll protect her.
*This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.*
Slowly, shakily, we allow them to herd us out of the room and into the hall. My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure they can hear it, my breath coming in sharp, panicked gasps.
*Where are the guards? Where’s Mauricio? Oh God, are they…?*
I can’t finish the thought. I can’t bear it. And as we round the corner, as we step into the wide, open space of the foyer, I feel the blood drain from my face, my stomach twisting with nausea and disbelief.
My eyes land on them, Marcel’s men, the guards and Mauricio, laying there, in a pool of their own blood, piled up like roadkill ready to be disposed of. Then, there, standing in the center of the room, a sinister smirk twisting in his face, is the man I hoped to never see again. The man who haunts my nightmares, who scarred me in ways I’ll never fully heal from.
*Luciano.*
“Well, hello again,” he purrs, his voice like silk over steel, his dark eyes glittering with vindictiveness. “Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”