The remnants of Grace Brennan

1| Strange places

New York City, 03 July 2017

The world was a tapestry of fine lines. Love and hate, heaven and hell, good and evil—all separated by delicate threads. Grace Brennan, if told a year ago that she would become the wife of the mafia king of New Port, would have laughed off such a preposterous notion. And if she were further told that she would be forced to kill her own father, disbelief would have clung to her like a stubborn shadow. But life has a way of defying expectations. Here she stood, in a dark room overlooking the dazzling lights of the New York City skyline, her throat parched and her head throbbing. Carefully rising from the bed, mindful of her bruised ribs, she made her way towards the door, where a sliver of light beckoned her. Her eyes strained to adjust as she stepped into a living room. The bitter taste in her mouth hinted at the drug Victor had injected her with.

The sun had set, casting an orange hue over the city. If Grace's mind wasn't burdened by the weight of the world, she might have savored the beauty. Instead, she ventured further into the unfamiliar apartment, desperate for a shred of familiarity, but finding none. It was in the brightly lit kitchen that she encountered a man—a few heads taller than her, his ash-blond hair slightly damp. His piercing blue eyes locked onto her brown ones.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," his deep voice resonated with a distinct Russian accent.

"Where am I?" Grace's voice trembled with grogginess and panic. "Who are you?"

"My name is Sergio. I work for Mr. Bernardi," he replied, tilting his head to the side.

Grace strained to recall her last conversation with Victor, but her mind was veiled by a dense fog.

"Where is Victor?" she asked, though deep down, she already knew the answer.

"He left this for you," Sergio said, placing a white envelope on the marble counter.

Grace approached cautiously, mindful of her aching muscles. She retrieved the envelope and unfolded the letter inside, settling onto the beige L-shaped couch in the living room as she began to read.

Dear Grace,

I know you must be upset with me, but this is the only way I know how to keep you safe. The threat from Demani is too great, and New Port is currently a dangerous place. But I promise you, this is not forever.

I will do everything within my power to ensure your safety, and right now, this is the only course of action I see fit. Sergio will provide for your needs. He won't harm you, so there's no need to fear him.

Please refrain from doing anything that might jeopardize your safety or draw attention to yourself.

I give you my word, tesoro—everything will soon return to normal.

-Victor

Grace closed the letter, tears streaming down her face. Victor had never given her a reason to doubt him, and deep down, she knew she could trust him. Yet, he had promised never to leave her, and that was precisely what he had done. She returned the letter to its envelope, retracing her steps back to the bedroom she had awoken in. She lay down, closed her eyes, and succumbed to the embrace of a tearful slumber.

When she awoke several hours later, her mouth dry and her head still pounding, it took a moment to recall why she was here. Rising from the bed, she made her way to the kitchen, the apartment cloaked in darkness, and her protector, the blond mafia man, nowhere to be found. She poured a glass of water and drank it quickly, feeling a slight sense of relief before returning to the bedroom where she had awakened.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, overlooking the city lights that danced through the night, Grace attempted to organize her thoughts, still shrouded in a thick fog. She pondered the safety of her siblings, Debbie and Owen. She knew Victor would ensure their well-being, especially since Debbie was pregnant with Vincent's baby. The circumstances of their involvement made her uncomfortable, but she didn't dwell on it for long. Alongside thoughts of her siblings, she wondered if they were angry with her for killing Frank. If not, they would surely view her as a monster for taking a life, regardless of the fact that it was Frank's life. She had ended it, making her no different from the mafia men she had encountered since meeting Victor a few months ago. Her mind drifted to thoughts of Victor, etching his features into her memory—the intense gaze of his emerald green eyes, the way his dark hair was always swept back with a rebellious curl on his forehead, his strong jawline, and the rare but beautiful smile that graced his lips. Every detail, she held close in her memories of him. Grace had never fathomed how deeply she would miss him, and now that she was away, she felt nothing but cold emptiness, her heart aching for him. Wiping away a tear that had escaped her eye, she rose from the bed and made her way around the lavishly furnished room to the bathroom. Like many of Victor's properties, this one exuded glamour. Grace turned on the large shower, waiting for the water to warm up. As she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she noticed her pale complexion and the dark circles under her eyes. She let out a sigh, taming the disarray of her hair before carefully removing her clothes, mindful of the bruises forming on her body. Finally, she stepped into the shower, allowing the hot water to ease her tense muscles.

With a multitude of questions swirling in her mind, Grace took a deep breath, closing her eyes momentarily, only to open them abruptly as Frank's lifeless body flashed in her mind. Guilt consumed her emotions. She glanced down, observing the water swirling down the drain, except it wasn't water—it quickly turned crimson, a vivid reminder of blood. Her heart raced as she examined her body, searching for the source, her hands covered in blood that pooled around her. Panic gripped her as she desperately tried to wash the blood away, her mind racing to comprehend how she could have injured herself. Yet, she felt no pain as she scrubbed at her bleeding hands, sobbing as more and more blood seemed to flow. And then, suddenly, there was nothing—the water in the drain returned to its normal state, her hands clean and free of any blood or injury. Against the cold shower wall, Grace leaned, attempting to calm herself, coming to terms with the realization that there had never been any blood—it had all been in her mind.

A/N

So there it is, the first chapter, what are your thoughts? 
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, you guys are amazing and I am so blessed. 

With love
Angel7x