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Chapter 2

One Year Later...

It's hard to believe how quickly time has flown. It's been a full year since I walked away from that suffocating house and started my college journey. And while there are moments when the loneliness creeps in, this is the happiest I've ever been.

For the first time, I feel peace—real peace. I no longer live in a constant state of fear, bracing for the next cruel word or cold glance. My soul finally has room to breathe.

Still, there's an emptiness I can't quite name. Something feels missing, though I don't yet know what it is. Maybe time will reveal it. Maybe time will heal it.

Dad hasn't contacted me once since I left. And yes, it hurts—but I can't say I'm surprised. I knew he wouldn't reach out. I haven't called him either. I don't want to feel like a burden or face the cold indifference I've known all my life.

He treated me like I was invisible, even when we lived under the same roof. We share the same blood, yet in this short time on my own, strangers have shown me more kindness, respect, and understanding than he ever did.

I've seen Sophia a few times on campus—from a distance. She's in her second year now, and I've just completed my first. I always make sure to avoid her, changing direction or ducking into a building if I have to. I know all the places she frequents and steer clear of them. Two more years of dodging, and then she'll be out of my life for good.

College hasn't just been an escape—it's been a beginning. I met my friends, Tessa and Mia, during my first semester. Tessa's an arts major with dreams of opening her own gallery, and Mia's studying finance. I'm majoring in business, hoping to one day run my own company. They're the kindest, most genuine people I've ever met—always looking out for everyone in our little circle.

We usually hang out on campus, but sometimes they come over to my apartment when they need a break from the chaos of dorm life. Privacy is a luxury they don't have. Luckily, a two-bedroom unit just opened up a few doors down, and they're moving in by the end of the month. It's perfect—we'll be neighbors.

Ten months ago, I landed a job at a diner just two streets from my apartment. I work the late shift, and tonight it's my turn to lock up. The tips, combined with my wages, have allowed me to live comfortably without touching the money Mom left me. I live simply, and it works. I lack nothing, and I'm grateful for that.

The diner closes at midnight sharp, even on holidays. It's Friday night, and I'm wiping down the last few tables, ready to call it a day. I can't wait to get home, take a hot shower, and collapse into bed. This week has been exhausting—I've been covering shifts for coworkers who were either sick or dealing with personal issues. I don't mind, though. More hours mean more money.

Chase, our cook, is still in the back. We're on the same schedule. He's twenty-eight, with sandy blond hair, a kind smile, and a quiet determination. He's working two jobs to save up for a home for his fiancée and their three-year-old daughter. They've been together since high school. You don't meet many guys like him anymore.

"Liv, you ready to head out?" Chase called from the kitchen, stepping into the dining area.

"Almost. Just four more chairs to stack," I replied, moving quickly.

"Let me help. The sooner we're done, the sooner we're out of here," he said, grabbing the last two chairs.

"Thanks, Chase."

"No worries, baby doll. I'm not leaving a man—or woman—behind," he joked with a grin.

I laughed softly, grateful for the help. We finished up, set the alarm, locked the doors, and stepped outside. Chase lives in the opposite direction, so we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.

The streets were buzzing with life—typical for a Friday night. I felt safer with the crowd around. When it's too quiet, I usually take an Uber, but they're pricey this late. My frugal side won the argument tonight.

As I passed the nightclub, I spotted Marco across the street, standing near his usual bench. He's in his late forties or early fifties, average height, a bit of grey at the temples, and a slight belly. He's always there when I walk by after work. Tonight, he was talking to two tall, muscular men I didn't recognize.

"Hey, Livy! Working late again?" he called out, his voice warm and familiar. He always calls me Livy, and there's something comforting in the way he says it. He's like the father figure I never had—always checking in, offering advice, and making sure I'm okay.

"Hey, Marco. It's always a good night when I see you," I smiled, pulling out a container with his favorite chocolate cake and handing it to him.

"Had to cover for someone tonight, but I'm off this weekend. That's your favorite—hope you enjoy," I said, going in for a hug.

He hugged me with one arm, the other cradling the cake like treasure. "You're just what my soul needed," he said, peeking inside the container with a grin. "Thank you, my darling."

"No problem. I've never met a night owl who loves chocolate cake this much," I teased, watching him practically drool over it.

Then I noticed the two men beside him. They were both tall, broad-shouldered, and covered in tattoos that peeked out from beneath their expensive black clothes. Their presence was intense—dangerous, even. One had a sharp buzz cut and a chiseled jawline. The other had jet-black hair and striking silver-grey eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. His gaze sent a chill down my spine.

Marco cleared his throat, snapping me out of my daze. "Livy, this is my sister's son, Domenico," he said, gesturing to the silver-eyed man. "And this is his best friend, Luca."

I smiled politely and extended my hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Olivia."

Luca shook my hand without hesitation—his grip was firm, his hands warm and calloused. But when I offered my hand to Domenico, he just stared at it with a look of disdain. Embarrassed, I slowly lowered my hand, but I kept my smile intact. He didn't need to know how much that stung.

They both radiated danger—like men you didn't want to cross. Their presence was overwhelming, their energy sharp and unyielding.

"I've had a long week," I said, turning back to Marco. "It's late, and my bed is calling."

"Get home safe, sweetheart," Marco said, patting my shoulder.

"Thanks, Marco. I'll see you next week—same spot," I smiled, giving the two men a polite nod before heading off.

Even as I walked away, I could feel their eyes on me. The streetlights were dim, but those silver eyes were burned into my memory. I didn't dare look back.

Once I got home, I peeled off my clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the exhaustion of the week. After drying my hair, I slipped into bed, and sleep claimed me almost instantly.

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