“No one,” I say, my voice a whisper, “should ever have to see that.”
A single tear escapes his eye, tracing a path down his cheek. It’s the most honest thing I have ever seen from him.
The next morning,Nico is gone again, called away to the city on urgent business related to the Vancouver fallout. The house is quiet, watched over by Blake. The fragile, profound connection I felt with Nico last night now seems like a dream.
I wander restlessly, the truth of his past a heavy weight in my thoughts. He gave me a piece of his soul, and I don't know what to do with it. Desperate for fresh air, I tell Blake I'm going for a walk. He agrees, reminding me only the dock is within the permitted area.
The path winds through the gardens. A guard track my movement from a distance. The message is clear: I can walk, but not run.
I sit at the edge of the dock, letting my legs dangle over the water, and close my eyes. For a moment, I can almost pretend I’m free.
“He’s not worth it, you know.”
The voice slices through my reverie. My eyes snap open. Isabel Vega stands on the yacht’s deck, casually leaning against the railing. She’s traded her pantsuit for slim black jeans and acrisp white shirt, diamonds winking at her ears. I glance back at the guard. He remains at his post, oblivious. She hasn't just breached security; she's infiltrated it.
“How did you?—”
“Security is only as effective as the people operating them are loyal,” she says. “And loyalty is always negotiable.” She extends a hand, inviting me aboard. It’s a test. A trap, maybe. But the need to know propels me to my feet.
Isabel leads me into the main cabin for privacy. "The Vancouver shipment that’s keeping Nico so busy these past two days?” she says, her smile a study in calculated amusement. "A lovely little ghost story I told to get him out of the way. I had to talk with you alone.”
She circles me slowly. “The journalist who’s become Nico Varela’s most prized possession. The daughter of the elusive Professor Song. The piece everyone wants to play.”
“What do you want from me?”
Isabel stops and pulls out a sleek satellite phone. “This is very real,” she says, holding it out. “It’s your mother.”
I stare at the phone as if it’s a live grenade. My mother—the woman who turned my whole life into a twisted game, who shoved me onto this board as her little pawn without a second thought. The absolute last person I want to hear from right now. And yet... part of me, that stupid, hopeful kid inside, wonders if there’s some explanation that could make this all less horrific.
“Take it,” Isabel urges, her voice dipping into something almost soft, like she’s my ally in this mess. “She’s been trying to reach you.”
My fingers shake as I grab it. I press it to my ear, heart pounding.
“Mom?” My voice comes out small, unsure, like I’m ten again and scared of the dark.
“Lea.” Her voice is strained, laced with fear I don’t think I’ve ever heard from her before. “Oh, thank god. Are you safe? Has he hurt you?”
“I’m...” I hesitate, glancing down at my body hidden under the clothes, the fresh welts throbbing like a reminder of Nico’s “lessons.” Safe? Hurt? It’s all so messed up. “I’m managing.” I swallow, hardening my tone. “What do you want?” No warmth, no “I miss you.” Just flat, bitter truth.
A pause, then her voice shifts, heavy with what sounds like genuine sorrow. “Lea. I knew he would turn you against me.”
“He didn’t have to,” I snap, the words sharp as knives. “You did that all on your own. I saw everything, Mom. The uniform. The shipping manifests. That note read, ‘Asset now in place.’ Was any of it real? My life? Us?”
A sigh, like she’s carrying the weight of the world. “So, you know. I suppose I should be relieved. The lies were so heavy.”
“Don’t,” I growl, my hand clenching the phone so hard it hurts. “Don’t act like a fucking victim. You used me. Turned my career, my whole damn life, into a cover for your fentanyl crap.”
“That’s his version,” she shoots back, quick and defensive. “The truth is way more complicated, Lea. I was forced into this. The regime... they came to me years ago. Threatened to kill you and your father if I didn’t play along.”
I let out a bitter laugh, but inside, doubt creeps in. Forced? It sounds like a convenient excuse; a story she’d spin to pull meback in. But what if it’s true? What if she’s been trapped too? No—stop it, Lea. She’s lied before. This is just more manipulation. “And your brilliant solution was to sell drugs to fund a dictatorship? That’s your idea of keeping us safe?”
“It was the only way to survive! To keep you alive!” Her voice cracks, frantic now, pleading. She takes a shaky breath. "But I couldn't protect your father from everything. While I was trying to navigate the threats from my world, he found a monster in his own."
Everything freezes. My breath catches. “What are you talking about?”
“He didn’t die in an accident, Lea,” she says, her tone dropping low, like she’s sharing some sacred, heartbreaking secret only a mother could. “He died because he got too close to the monster you’re with now.”
Ice shoots through my veins. Isabel’s watching me, her eyes sharp, taking in every twitch. I want to hang up, to scream that this is bullshit, but I can’t. Not yet.
