Adopted by the Billionaire✔️

[44]

[POV: Ellie]
A week had passed, and I still wasn't used to having bodyguards trailing me. Ever since they arrived, Father had barely been home. On the bright side, I wasn't grounded anymore. Zach and I had actually grown closer, so when Saturday rolled around, we decided to head to a carnival. Of course, Grant and Parker had to come too.
During the drive, Zach told me he'd become a bodyguard because of his little sister. I'd always wanted an older brother, but Dad once explained that if he ever had another child, I'd be the older sister. Zach's story was heartbreaking; I won't get into the details, but he said his sister died when she was only five. It made me incredibly sad because five was the age my own life changed. I remembered a statistic I'd read once: a death happens every thirteen seconds, while a baby is born every eight.
"She would have been your age," Zach said quietly. "I think you two would have gotten along perfectly."
I didn't ask for her name. If I knew it, it would ring in my head for days, a constant reminder of a life cut short. I buckled my seatbelt and stared out at the landscape, lost in thought. I wondered what would have happened if I'd never found the courage to run away. What if I'd never found my dad? Would my life still be a struggle for survival while he sat on a high pedestal? Would he even want me if he met me now, at this age?
I never realized how much a single day of bravery could change a person's entire life. Maybe everything happened for a reason? Maybe the reason was to find my father. But then, why didn't my biological mother give me to him? Why didn't he know I existed?
I knew I shouldn't dwell on the past—it can't be changed—but the thoughts kept surfacing. When Dad asked if I was mad at him, I said no because I didn't want him to be upset with me. But deep down, it hurt that he hadn't been there when I was born. Did he not want me? Was he too busy with work for a child?
I sighed, louder than I intended.
"Hey, what's the matter?" Zach asked, pulling me back to reality.
"I'm just wondering... why my father wasn't there when I was a baby," I replied, turning away from the window to look at him.
"I see," he responded, his eyes fixed on the road. "Well, I'm sure there's a reason for everything."
"Hey, I know it's a touchy topic," I said cautiously, "but what really happened to your sister?"
"My sister..." Zach's voice was unwavering, almost too calm. "Well, let's just say she met some bad people at the wrong time. They thought it was best to silence her."
Bad people? I wondered. Like who? Was that why he became a bodyguard? Before I could press him, he changed the subject.
"Once we get there, do you want to stop for lunch?"
"Yeah, corn dogs," I replied. I decided to be patient, but my mind was racing. What kind of people kill a five-year-old? Did she know a secret? Was she caught in a crossfire? I felt like there was much more to the story than Zach was letting on.
We arrived at the carnival, where Parker and Grant were already waiting. The sun was scorching. As we headed toward the concession stands, I noticed the bodyguards were dressed casually to avoid drawing attention. I liked that. For a second, I imagined we could be a big family. My dad was away on business—I often wondered what a CEO actually did besides making money—so I tried to put him out of my mind and enjoy the day.
I was happily eating my corn dog when I spotted a girl about my age sitting on a bench. Her clothes were torn and dirty. Ignoring Zach's earlier instructions to stay close, I walked over to her.
"Hello, I'm Ellie," I said.
She looked up with hollow eyes. "Hi..."
"Where are your parents?" I asked, sitting beside her.
"They told me to wait here until they got back."
"How long has it been?"
She sighed. "Three hours."
"You look hungry. Do you want something to eat?"
She hesitated, looking over my shoulder. "I... I'm not sure."
"ELIANA!" Zach's voice boomed. I made a 'whoops' expression and turned around. The girl seemed to shrink back, looking terrified of him.
Zach marched up and placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. "I told you to stay put," he said, his tone sharp with annoyance.
"I thought she needed help!" I argued.
"Ellie, do not leave without telling us," he stressed.
"Well, sorry," I said with a bit of sass. "You would have done the same if you saw a girl in rags."
"You're right," he muttered, though he didn't look at the girl. "But don't do it again. Go back to Grant. I'll handle this."
He practically nudged me back toward our table. I rolled my eyes. What's the worst that could happen? Back at the table, I watched the crowds. I'd warmed up to Grant, but Parker was a stone wall. You couldn't get a word out of him, and when he did speak, it was usually something blunt or mean. Still, I couldn't help but notice how handsome they were. Between them and my dad, I was surrounded by good-looking men.
"Grant," I said, leaning on the table. "How much do you get paid?"
He took a sip of his drink. "Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering. Shouldn't you be in college or something?"
"I should be, but I've been training for this. It's my job."
"So, how much?" I pressed.
"Well, it's $500 per day, plus an additional $200 per hour for active service."
My jaw dropped. "$500 a day? And $200 an hour? That's... a lot." I did the quick math. If they were with me 12 hours a day... "That's over $20,000 a week!"
Grant nodded nonchalantly.
"Wait, that's like $1.2 million a year," I whispered. My dad was paying millions just to keep me safe. It made the world feel a lot more dangerous than I wanted to admit.
I glanced back at the bench. The girl was gone. And so was Zach.
[POV: Antonio]
Across the city, far from the bright lights of the carnival, I pulled my hoodie low and adjusted my shades. I stepped into the shadows of a damp alleyway where my security team was waiting.
"Capo," Wyatt, the second-in-command, stepped forward. "We've secured the perimeter. It appears Oliver and his men are moving into the Rio de Janeiro Carnival."
The name hit me like a physical blow. "The carnival?"
"We believe his agenda is a mass casualty event. He wants to expose the organization by creating a bloodbath."
I felt my blood turn to ice. "What time?"
"Unsure, sir. But thousands are at stake."
"No," I hissed, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and terror. "My daughter is there. Right now."
I grabbed Wyatt by the collar, my eyes burning. "Catch him before he moves. If you let him touch her—if you let anyone near her—I will have your head on a silver platter. Do you understand?"
Wyatt nodded frantically. "Of course, Capo. We're moving now."
"Inform Adam," I growled, releasing him. "My daughter and her guards are in the line of fire. Tell him to burn the place down if he has to, but get her out."
[POV: Third Person]
Oliver watched the carnival entrance from a high vantage point. His eyes locked onto a girl with dark blonde hair. He recognized Zach immediately. Zach had been his "apprentice" for years. Oliver held the ultimate leverage: Zach's little sister. If Zach didn't follow orders, the girl died.
He watched as Ellie approached the girl on the bench—Paisley, Zach's sister, playing the role of a beggar perfectly.
Down on the ground, Zach was spiraling. It was 2:20 PM. In ten minutes, the world was going to end. He had lied to Ellie; his sister wasn't dead, but she would be if he didn't deliver the "target." He looked at Ellie, who was happily eating cotton candy and teasing Grant by stealing his hat. She was a kid. She had potential.
Is there a way to save them both? Zach wondered, his heart aching. But in the world of the Mafia, you chose blood. He had to save Paisley.
Parker, ever the observer, noticed Zach's shaking hands. "Why are you on edge?" he asked.
"Just thinking," Zach snapped.
"Well, whatever it is, we're leaving. Now," Parker said, sensing a shift in the air.
"No!" Zach shouted, then immediately lowered his voice. "I mean... I want to take the Missus on a few more rides."
Parker narrowed his eyes. Zach was a terrible liar. Before Parker could demand the truth, the first gunshot cracked through the air.
The carnival transformed instantly from a place of joy to a scene of carnage. Screams erupted. Parker reached for his sidearm. Grant grabbed Ellie, shielding her with his body.
"What was that?" Ellie cried.
"Just a magic act!" Grant lied, his eyes scanning for the shooter.
In the chaos, Zach moved. He convinced Grant to let him lead Ellie toward a "safe" exit. Grant, trusting his partner, handed her over.
It was a trap.
Parker found Grant minutes later, alone. "Where is she?"
"With Zach!"
"Zach is the hostile!" Parker roared.
They found them near a black van. Oliver was there, gun raised. Ellie stood between them, her face pale with shock. "Zach? What are you doing?"
"I'm sorry, Ellie," Zach whispered.
Suddenly, Antonio's men arrived, led by Wyatt. A firefight broke out. Oliver, seeing his plan crumble, aimed at the girl. Grant lunged forward, taking a bullet to the abdomen to shield her. He collapsed, gasping in pain.
"GRANT!" Ellie screamed, falling to her knees beside him.
"Move away, girl, or I'll finish him," Oliver snarled.
Parker fired, his bullet shattering Oliver's knees. The man fell, cursing. In the confusion, Zach tried to pull Ellie away, but Oliver, even while down, leveled his gun one last time. He fired. Zach fired back.
The world went silent for Ellie. A searing heat bloomed in her shoulder. The impact threw her backward. She saw the sky, the bright carnival lights, and then... nothing.
[POV: Antonio]
I sprinted through the hospital corridors, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I saw her being wheeled into the ICU, a small, pale figure swamped by white sheets.
"That's my daughter! Let me through!" I screamed at the nurses. They pushed me back, telling me to wait.
I collapsed against the wall, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I was a Capo. I ran the most powerful organization in the country. And yet, I couldn't stop a piece of lead from tearing into my baby.
I looked up and saw Parker and Zach. Only two.
I marched over, my vision tunneling with rage. "What happened?"
"Ask Zach," Parker spat, his face bruised and bloody.
Zach looked at the floor. "Oliver... he had my sister. I had no choice."
I didn't think. I swung, my fist connecting with Zach's jaw, sending him sprawling. I slammed him against the wall. "I paid you to protect her! If it was money, I gave you more than enough!"
"It wasn't money!" Zach choked out. "He had my family! You'd do the same!"
I froze. He was right. If it were Ellie, I would burn the world. But my empathy was drowned by the sight of my daughter's blood on the floor. "If she dies," I whispered, my voice more terrifying than a scream, "I will personally make sure your sister watches you die."
I turned to Parker. "Get him medical attention. Then lock him in the basement."
Two hours passed. I sat on the floor of the waiting room, surrounded by the glass of a vase I'd shattered in my rage. I thought about the families I'd destroyed. Was this my karma? Was this how my enemies felt when I took their loved ones?
I felt a shadow fall over me. It was Matthias, my oldest friend.
"Where was she hit?" Mat asked, his voice steady.
"Shoulder," I rasped. "But it could have been her head, Mat. A few inches and she'd be gone."
"She's a fighter, Antonio," Mat said, sitting beside me. It was a strange sight—a Mafia boss and a police officer, bound by the code of silence and a shared love for a little girl.
In a room nearby, Grant was being patched up. He looked at Parker, who was leaning against the doorframe. "How is she?"
"In recovery," Parker said. "She'll live."
"How could Zach do it?" Grant muttered. "We were a team."
Parker stared down the hallway toward the room where Ellie lay. "In our world, Grant, there's no such thing as a team. There's only what you're willing to lose."
[POV: Ellie]
The first thing I felt wasn't pain. It was the smell—sharp, sterile, and cold. It smelled like bleach and sickness.
I tried to move my arm, but a white-hot spike of agony shot through my shoulder, pinning me back against the pillows. A soft moan escaped my lips, and suddenly, the quiet hum of the room was broken by the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.
"Ellie? Baby, can you hear me?"
I blinked, my vision blurry and swimming. It took a few seconds for the world to snap into focus. My dad was leaning over me, his face pale and his eyes rimmed with red. I had never seen him look so... fragile. The powerful CEO, the man who always seemed to have an answer for everything, looked like he was falling apart.
"Dad?" my voice was a raspy whisper.
"I'm here. I'm right here." He took my good hand, squeezing it gently. "You're safe. You're in the hospital."
The memories started to rush back in jagged pieces. The bright lights of the carnival. The smell of popcorn. The girl on the bench... and Zach.
"Grant," I gasped, the panic rising in my chest. "He was bleeding. Is he—"
"He's okay, Ellie," Dad said, his voice hardening just a fraction at the mention of the incident. "He's in the room next door. He took a hit for you, but the doctors say he'll be back on his feet in a few weeks."
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. But then, the heavier memory settled in. I remembered the cold look in Zach's eyes. I remembered him apologizing right before my world turned into a nightmare.
"Zach did it," I whispered, the realization feeling heavier than the bullet in my shoulder. "He gave me to them. Why, Dad? I thought... I thought we were friends."
My dad didn't answer right away. He looked toward the door, his jaw tight. "He had his reasons, Ellie. But reasons don't change the fact that he failed you. He's being... handled."
A chill that had nothing to do with the hospital AC ran down my spine. "What does that mean? Handled?"
Before he could answer, the door pushed open. Parker stepped in. He looked exhausted, his usual pristine suit rumpled and stained. When his eyes met mine, I saw a flicker of something that looked like relief, though he quickly masked it with his signature stoic expression.
"Missus," he said, nodding toward me. "Glad to see you're awake."
"Where is he, Parker?" I asked, ignored the 'Missus' title I usually hated. "Where is Zach?"
Parker glanced at my father, seeking permission. Dad gave a curt nod.
"He's downstairs," Parker said shortly. "In the holding ward."
"I want to see him."
"Absolutely not," Dad snapped, his protective mask slamming back into place. "You've just come out of surgery. You're staying in this bed."
"Dad, please," I pleaded, feeling tears prick at my eyes. "I need to know why. He told me his sister died... but that girl on the bench, she looked just like the picture he showed me once. He lied about everything. I need to hear it from him."
[POV: Antonio]
I looked at my daughter—my brave, stubborn daughter—and felt a wave of guilt so strong it nearly knocked me over. She was thirteen. She should be crying about a failed test or a mean comment at school, not asking to confront a traitor who almost got her killed.
"Fine," I said, much to Parker's visible surprise. "But not today. You need to heal. If the doctor clears you tomorrow, I'll let you speak to him. Under heavy guard."
I stood up and kissed her forehead. "I have to go take care of some... business. Parker will be right outside the door. If you need anything, you tell him."
I walked out of the room, my heart turning to lead. I didn't tell her that "handling" Zach meant deciding whether or not he lived to see the sunrise.
Matthias was waiting for me in the hallway, leaning against a vending machine.
"You're actually going to let her talk to him?" Mat asked.
"She needs closure, Mat. If I don't give it to her, she'll spend the rest of her life wondering what she did wrong. I won't let his betrayal haunt her forever."
"And Oliver?"
I cracked my knuckles, a dark smile ghosting my lips. "Oliver is in the basement of the warehouse. He's going to wish he'd died at the carnival."
[POV: Third Person]
In the basement of the Mayo Clinic, in a room guarded by two of Antonio's most loyal soldiers, Zach sat on the edge of a narrow cot. His head was bandaged, and his spirit was broken.
He knew he was a dead man walking. In the Mafia, betrayal was the only sin that couldn't be forgiven. But when he closed his eyes, he didn't see Antonio's vengeful face or Parker's disgusted sneer. He saw Ellie. He saw the way she had looked at him right before the gun went off—the pure, heartbreaking shock of a child who had just realized the world wasn't safe.
The door creaked open. It wasn't the executioner he expected.
It was Paisley.
The little girl rushed into the room, throwing her arms around his neck. "Zach! They said we can go soon! They said the man with the scary eyes is letting us go!"
Zach hugged her tight, his tears soaking into her messy hair. He knew better. Antonio wouldn't just let them go. There was always a price.
"Yeah, Daisy," he whispered, lying to her one last time. "Everything is going to be fine."
Across the hall, in another room, Grant groaned as a nurse changed his bandages. Parker was sitting in the corner, cleaning his service weapon.
"You think he'll kill him?" Grant asked, his voice weak.
Parker didn't look up from his gun. "If it were me? I'd have done it already. But the Boss... he's different when it comes to the kid. He might keep Zach alive just so Ellie can look him in the eye one last time."
"And then?"
Parker finally looked up, his eyes cold as ice. "And then, I'll be the one to pull the trigger."
The air in the hospital's secure wing was heavy with the smell of antiseptic and the silent tension of the armed men stationed every five feet. Ellie walked slowly, her left arm held tight against her chest in a black sling. Every step sent a dull throb through her shoulder, but the pain in her chest—the weight of betrayal—was much sharper.
Antonio walked beside her, his hand hovering near her back as if he could catch her if she stumbled. He looked like he wanted to turn her around and bolt her back into her hospital bed, but he had given his word.
"One conversation," Antonio muttered, his voice a low growl. "And then we leave. He is not the man you thought he was, Eliana."
"I know, Dad," she whispered.
[POV: Ellie]
The heavy steel door groaned as Parker unlocked it. The room inside was small and dim, containing only a cot, a small table, and two chairs.
Zach was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked terrible. His face was a map of purple bruises and dried blood, his eyes sunken and dark. When he looked up and saw me, he flinched as if I'd struck him.
"Ellie," he breathed. It wasn't the cheerful, teasing voice that used to greet me at the bus stop. It sounded hollow.
"Don't call me that," I said. My voice trembled, but I stood my ground.
Dad stayed by the door, his arms crossed, looking like a gargoyle carved from stone. Parker stood just outside. I pulled out the chair and sat down across from the man I had once considered a big brother.
"Was any of it real?" I asked. "The jokes? The stories about your sister? Was it all just a lie to make me trust you?"
Zach looked at his hands, his knuckles raw and torn. "The stories were real. Everything I told you about Paisley... it was true. Except for the part where she died." He swallowed hard. "Oliver took her three months ago. He told me if I didn't get close to you—if I didn't hand you over when the time came—he'd send her back to me in pieces."
I looked at him, searching for the monster, but all I saw was a broken man. "You could have told my dad. He has people. He could have saved her."
Zach let out a harsh, dry laugh. "Your father is the Capo, Ellie. In my world, you don't ask the King for a favor unless you're willing to pay with your soul. I thought I could handle it. I thought I could find a way to save her without hurting you."
"But you didn't," I countered, my voice rising. "You led me to a bench where your sister was acting like a beggar. You watched me give her my food while you were waiting for a man to come and kill me. You saw Grant get shot! He was your partner!"
"I know!" Zach shouted, suddenly standing up. Dad moved instantly, stepping toward him, but Zach just collapsed back onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. "I know. Every time I look at you, I see the bullet hitting your shoulder. I see Paisley's face. I'm a coward, Eliana. I chose my blood over my honor."
I looked at the bandages on his head, then down at my own sling. "I would have helped you," I said softly. "If you had just been honest, I would have begged my dad to save your sister. We could have been a family for real."
Zach looked up, tears finally spilling over his bruised cheeks. "That's the difference between us. You still think the world is kind enough for that. I've known since I was five that it isn't."
I stood up, my legs feeling like lead. I had come here wanting to scream at him, to tell him I hated him. But looking at him now, I just felt... empty.
"I don't hate you, Zach," I said, turning toward the door. "But I can't look at you anymore. When I see you, I just feel the cold."
[POV: Antonio]
I watched Ellie walk out of the room, her head held high despite the tears streaming down her face. My heart ached for her. She had lost her innocence in that room, trading it for a hard lesson in loyalty.
I stayed behind for a moment, the door clicking shut behind her.
Zach didn't look at me. He kept his head down, waiting for the end.
"She has mercy," I said, my voice echoing in the small cell. "My daughter has a heart of gold. She actually asked me to let your sister go. She told me that the girl shouldn't suffer for the brother's sins."
Zach's shoulders shook with a sob. "Thank you. Please... just take care of Paisley."
"Oh, I will," I said, leaning down so my face was inches from his. "But as for you... you're a talented man, Zach. And you know too many of our secrets to simply walk away."
"Just kill me, Antonio," Zach whispered. "Do it now."
"Death is too easy. You're going to work off your debt. You'll be moved to the northern territories. You'll live, and your sister will be provided for, but you will never see her again. And if you ever—ever—step foot near my daughter again, I won't use a gun. I'll take my time."
I didn't wait for a response. I walked out, signaling to the guards to prep the transport.
[POV: Third Person]
Outside the hospital, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in bruises of purple and orange. Ellie sat in the back of the SUV, staring out the window. Parker was in the driver's seat, watching her through the rearview mirror.
"You did good, Missus," Parker said quietly.
"I don't feel like I did good, Parker. I feel like everything is different now."
"It is," Parker agreed. He reached into the glove box and pulled out a small, wrapped chocolate bar—the kind Grant usually kept in his pockets. He handed it back to her. "But different doesn't mean worse. It just means you're prepared."
Ellie took the chocolate, a small, sad smile touching her lips. "Is Grant really okay?"
"He's complaining about the hospital food and trying to flirt with the night nurse," Parker deadpanned. "He'll be fine."
As the car pulled away, Ellie looked back at the hospital. She thought about the statistics she'd told Zach—the deaths every thirteen seconds, the births every eight. She realized then that she had been reborn too. The girl who went to the carnival was gone.
The girl sitting in the car now knew exactly who her father was. And for the first time, she wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
The shift from the sterile, quiet hospital to the industrial wasteland of the docks was jarring. The air here didn't smell like antiseptic; it smelled of salt, rust, and old blood.
Antonio stepped out of the black sedan, his movements slow and deliberate. He had removed his suit jacket, rolling up his sleeves to reveal the intricate tattoos that marked his rank and his history. He wasn't the CEO now. He wasn't even the grieving father. He was the Capo, and he had a debt to collect.
[POV: Antonio]
The warehouse was a cavern of shadows, lit only by a few flickering overhead bulbs. In the center of the room, bolted to a heavy steel chair, was Oliver.
He looked pathetic. His leg was heavily bandaged where Parker's bullet had shattered his kneecap, and his face was a mess of sweat and grime. When the heavy iron doors groaned open, he flinched, his eyes darting toward me.
"Antonio," he wheezed, a bloody grin tugging at his lips. "I figured you'd show up eventually. Come to finish what your lapdog started?"
I didn't answer. I walked to a nearby table where Wyatt had laid out a collection of tools. I picked up a pair of heavy pliers, turning them over in my hand. The weight felt right.
"You touched my daughter, Oliver," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "You didn't just target a rival. You targeted a child. My child."
"She's a beautiful girl," Oliver taunted, his voice shaking despite his bravado. "Looks just like her mother. It's a shame she had to leak so much red onto that carnival pavement."
I was across the room in a blur. I didn't use the pliers. I used my fist, a brutal hook that sent his head snapping to the side. I followed it with a gut shot that left him gasping for air.
"You're going to tell me everyone who was involved," I hissed, leaning in until our foreheads touched. "Every name. Every safe house. Every cent you were promised."
"And if I don't?" Oliver spat a glob of bloody phlegm onto my shirt.
I looked down at the stain, then back at him. I didn't get angry. I got cold. "Then I'll start with the fingers. And when I'm done with those, I'll move to the toes. By the time we get to your tongue, you'll be begging me to let you speak."
I signaled to Wyatt, who stepped forward with a bucket of ice water. He dumped it over Oliver's head, shocking the man back into full consciousness.
"I have all night, Oliver," I said, pulling up a chair and sitting directly in front of him. "And I have a very long memory."
[POV: Third Person]
For the next three hours, the only sounds in the warehouse were the low, rhythmic thud of blows and the occasional, gut-wrenching scream that the thick concrete walls easily swallowed.
Wyatt stood by the door, his face a mask of professional indifference. He had seen the Capo angry before, but this was different. This was surgical. Antonio wasn't just venting his rage; he was dismantling a man.
By the time the sun began to peek through the high, grimy windows, Oliver was a broken shell. He had given up everything—bank accounts in the Caymans, the names of three corrupt politicians on his payroll, and the location of his primary armory.
Antonio stood up, his shirt ruined, his knuckles barked and raw. He wiped his hands on a rag, looking down at the man who had dared to threaten his world.
"What now?" Oliver croaked, his eyes swollen shut. "You... you gonna kill me?"
Antonio looked at the exit, thinking of Ellie sleeping in her hospital bed, her shoulder wrapped in gauze. He thought of the way she had looked at Zach—the look of a girl who had realized that monsters were real.
"No," Antonio said. "Killing you is too quick. I want you to live long enough to see everything you've built burn to the ground. I want you to watch as I take your legacy and turn it into ash."
He turned to Wyatt. "Call the cleaners. I want him moved to the hole. No doctors, no medicine. Just enough water to keep him breathing."
"Yes, Capo," Wyatt replied.
[POV: Antonio]
I walked out of the warehouse into the cool morning air. I felt exhausted, but the weight on my chest had lifted slightly. I climbed back into the car and pulled out my phone.
I had a missed call from the hospital.
My heart skipped a beat as I dialed the return number. "This is Antonio. Is my daughter okay?"
"She's fine, sir," the nurse's voice came through, sounding tired but kind. "She woke up a few minutes ago and asked for a corn dog. I think she's going to be just fine."
I let out a long, shaky breath, leaning my head back against the leather seat. I looked at my hands—the hands that had spent the last several hours breaking a man—and realized I would have to wash them thoroughly before I could hold her again.
"I'm on my way," I said.
As the car pulled away from the docks, I looked at the sunrise. It was a new day, but the shadows were longer than ever. I had saved my daughter, but I had also shown her the monster I was.
I just hoped that, in time, she could learn to love the monster too.

A month had transformed the sprawling estate from a fortress into a recovery ward. The tension of the shooting had faded into a dull, lingering ache—the kind that only appeared when the weather changed or someone mentioned a carnival.
The "one month" mark was a milestone for everyone. The bandages were off, the stitches were out, and the scars were beginning to fade from angry red to a silvery pink.
[POV: Ellie]
I sat on the edge of the pool, kicking my legs through the cool water. My left shoulder still felt stiff, and I had to do these annoying physical therapy exercises every morning, but I was finally out of the sling.
Life at the estate had changed. My dad was around more—sometimes too much. He checked on me every hour, his eyes scanning me for any sign of pain. He hadn't told me what happened to Oliver or Zach, and for once, I didn't ask. Some secrets were better left in the basement.
I heard the heavy tread of combat boots on the stone patio. I didn't even have to look up to know who it was.
"You're late for your 'training,' Missus," Parker said.
I rolled my eyes, looking back at him. He looked the same as always—suit pressed, face like a granite statue—but there was something different in the way he stood. He wasn't just guarding a target anymore. He was watching over me.
"It's not training, Parker. It's just walking around the garden," I teased.
"In this house, walking is tactical movement," he deadpanned, though I caught the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.
I stood up, testing the range of motion in my shoulder. "Where's Grant? Is he still 'resting'?"
"Resting? I've been doing laps since six AM!"
Grant rounded the corner of the pool house, shirtless and sporting a large, jagged scar across his side. He looked thinner than before, but his grin was as wide as ever. He was holding a tray with three smoothies.
"Doctors say I need the vitamins," Grant said, handing a bright green one to me and a dark purple one to Parker. "And Parker needs to lighten up, so I put extra kale in his."
Parker looked at the green sludge with pure suspicion. "I don't eat grass, Grant."
"Drink it. It's an order from the survivor's club," Grant laughed, wincing slightly as he sat down. The bullet had done a number on his internal organs, but his spirit seemed untouchable.
[POV: Grant]
I watched Ellie sip her smoothie. She looked older. Not physically—she was still five-foot-nothing and spunky—but her eyes had lost that naive shimmer. She looked at the world now like someone who knew exactly how it worked.
I felt a pang of guilt every time I saw her scar. I was supposed to be the shield. I had failed to see Zach's betrayal until it was too late.
"What are you thinking about, G?" Ellie asked, nudging my foot with hers.
"Just thinking about how much I hate kale," I lied.
"Liar," she said softly. "You're thinking about that day."
I sighed, leaning back against the lounge chair. "Hard not to. Especially when I have a permanent souvenir on my ribs."
"We all have souvenirs," Ellie said, touching her shoulder. "But Dad says we're the winners because we're the ones sitting by the pool."
Parker finally took a sip of his smoothie and made a face like he'd swallowed a lemon. "The Boss is right. But being the winner means staying the winner. Tomorrow, we start defensive driving lessons."
"Parker! I'm thirteen!" Ellie protested.
"Thirteen is old enough to know how to J-turn a sedan out of an ambush," Parker replied coolly.
[POV: Antonio]
I watched them from the balcony of my office, a glass of scotch in my hand. Down by the pool, the three of them looked like a strange, broken, beautiful family.
Grant was laughing at something Ellie said, and even Parker looked relaxed. I had vetted them both again—personally. I had dug into their lives until there was nothing left to find. They were loyal. Not just to the paycheck, but to her.
My phone buzzed on the railing. It was Wyatt.
"The cleanup in the North is complete. Zach has been relocated. Oliver's assets have been absorbed. The message has been sent, Capo."
I deleted the message. The world was quiet for now. The rivals were scared, the traitors were gone, and my daughter was laughing.
I walked down the stairs and out onto the patio. The three of them went silent for a second, the natural reflex of subordinates in the presence of the Boss.
"At ease," I said, leaning against a pillar. "I'm not here for a briefing."
"Dad! Grant says he can beat me in a race to the gate," Ellie said, her eyes sparking with a bit of her old mischief.
I looked at Grant, who went slightly pale. "Sir, I—"
"If you lose to a thirteen-year-old with a healing shoulder, Grant, I'm cutting your hourly rate," I joked.
The tension broke instantly. Grant jumped up, ignoring the twinge in his side. "You're on! Parker, you're the referee!"
As they scrambled off toward the driveway, Parker lingered for a moment, his eyes meeting mine.
"She's doing well, sir," Parker said quietly.
"She is," I agreed. "But keep her sharp, Parker. The world doesn't stay quiet forever."
"I know," Parker said, adjusting his shades. "I won't let her fall again."
I watched them run—my daughter in the lead, her hair flying in the wind, chased by the men who would die for her. I knew the peace wouldn't last. In my world, it never did. But as long as she was smiling, I would keep the monsters at bay, even if I had to become the biggest monster of them all to do it.

revised: 3.29.26

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