MIA
I woke with a gasp, my body jerking upright. The sunlight streaming through the window was so bright it seared my eyes. I threw up a hand, squinting as my vision swam.
My head was heavy. Sluggish. And it hurt.
I reached back instinctively, fingertips grazing something foreign.
A bandage.
This wasn’t my apartment. I blinked hard at the ceiling overhead, trying to make sense of it—crown molding, a familiar crack in the paint near the corner vent…
The Upper East Side apartment.
My childhood bedroom.
The memories came rushing in, faster than I could process them.
Someone holding me back, their fingers tight around my wrist.
My dad’s strange stare. The smoke billowing out of a skyscraper window.
Romolo.
“No!”
I tore the covers off and flew to the door, ignoring the pain that was erupting inside my skull. I didn’t care. I had to get to him. I had to make sure he was okay.
The handle wouldn’t give. It was locked.
Panic surged. I hammered my fists against the door. “Let me out! Let me out!”
Footsteps echoed on the other side. A low male voice murmured to someone. Then—click—the lock released.
The door swung open.
I stumbled back as a man I didn’t recognize appeared in the doorway. There was a stethoscope slung around his neck.
“Good morning, Mia. How are you feeling?”
“Get out of my way,” I whispered harshly, eyeing the gap between him and the frame. It was too narrow for me to pass through. I’d have to shove him out of the way.
He didn’t move. “I’m a doctor and I’m here to check on you. How’s your head?”
Tears blurred my vision.
No. Get yourself together. Focus.
I forced myself to look him straight in the eye. “I want to leave.”
He gave me a sad, almost pitying smile that made my skin crawl. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
He stepped inside, and that’s when I saw them. Two men in security uniforms posted just behind in the hallway.
It was the same guys who’d blocked my way out of the campaign office. And now they were here to do…what?
Keep me from leaving?
The doctor noticed me looking and gently pushed the door shut. “Please, sit. I need to examine you.” His voice was almost drowned out by the roar of blood rushing in my ears.
I was being held captive.
By my father. Who else? He must’ve ordered this.
My hands skimmed over my hips. I was still in the same dress I’d worn yesterday. Had I been out all night? That didn’t make sense.
“Vasovagal syncope only knocks me out for a few seconds,” I said, turning to the doctor. “Why was I out for so long?”
He cleared his throat and looked away as if my question made him uncomfortable. “You hit your head when you fell. The bandage is there for the cut.”
“The hit to my head knocked me out for over twelve hours?” I didn’t believe him. “If it was that bad, I would have been taken to a hospital.”
A flush rose in his cheeks. “Due to your agitated state before the episode, we decided it was best to administer a sedative. I gave you something mild to help you rest.”
Oh…my God. He’d drugged me. With my Dad’s consent.
I burned with fury. The sun was still too bright, too aggravating. I strode across the room to close the curtains and jerked them across the rod so hard the fabric tore at the top.
The rip grated right over the pulsing ache in my skull.
I stared at the flap of fabric. “Is that what you’re here to do again?”
“No, Mia. You don’t seem agitated to me anymore. Let’s keep it that way, okay?”
Slowly, I turned. A ballet dancer twirling in her enclosure. I felt stiff enough for the image to fit.
The doctor patted the bed, his leather satchel at his feet. “Please. We need to check for a concussion or any complications.’
Where was my phone? I scanned the room, just in case, but as expected, it wasn’t anywhere in sight. They’d probably taken it.
The doctor watched me closely. He was middle-aged, gray peppering his hair. A thick mustache sat under his broad nose.
What on earth would compel him to be involved in this? Money? A favor called in?
His body was rigid, like he wasn’t completely at ease.
That was something. He was likely my best chance at getting out.
Tempering the rising urge to throw the Hippocratic oath in his face, I moved to the bed. The mattress made a soft whine as I took a seat. ‘Is my dad here?’
‘I don’t believe so.” He placed the stethoscope gently on my chest.
“Who let you in?’
‘Your stepmother.”
The blood inside my veins froze over.
Not just my dad. They were both in on it.
It had all been pointless. The nights I’d spent taking care of Aris. The year I’d given to help Dad win the election. The dreams I’d let slip away. The ways I’d abandoned myself.
None of it had mattered. I didn’t matter. Not to them.
“The explosion in Manhattan,” I rasped. “Do you know if anyone died?”
The doctor hesitated. ‘I heard there was one casualty.’
The room tilted. I wanted to throw up.
“Who?” The word barely made it past my throat.
‘I don’t know. Please turn so I can check the laceration on your head.”
I shouldn’t have let Rom walk out of that hotel room. I should have run after him and just fucking told him I loved him.
Now I might never get the chance.
A strangled moan, low and raw, tore from somewhere deep inside of me.
When I first met Rom, I thought we were opposites. He was rough where I was gentle. Abrasive where I was soft. Disillusioned where I was optimistic.
But we were the same. Both of us were starved for the love we’d never received.
The only difference was I’d kept searching for it.
He’d stopped.
“Please,” I begged. “Just tell me who it was.”
‘I don’t know,” he said emphatically as he pulled at the bandage. “Are you experiencing any visual disturbances?”
“Let me use your phone. I can check online.”
“Mia, you need to answer my questions.”
“No,” I spat. “I’m not experiencing any fucking visual disturbances.”
His jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
I rolled my lips between my teeth and tried again—softer this time. “I won’t call anyone. Just a quick check. Please.”
“The guards took my phone before I came in. The cut looks fine to me. We’re almost finished.”
The memory of Jenny’s words wormed its way into my head. “I’ll have you put on house arrest if I have to.”
Well, here I was.
She hadn’t even given me the three days she’d promised.
Looking back, it was obvious. She never intended to. Three days would have been enough for me to derail things. Of course, she didn’t want to risk it. Not with a promotion riding on my dad’s win.
“I just need to check your pupils,” the doctor said.
‘This is illegal.” My voice shook as the light from his flashlight flooded my eyes. ‘They can’t keep me locked in here against my will. When you leave, call the police.’
“All done. I don’t see anything to be concerned about.”
“You know this isn’t okay,” I whispered. “Help me.”
The doctor put his flashlight back into his bag, avoiding my gaze. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” He zipped up the bag. “Miss Morales, I want you to rest for a few days. If anything feels worse, let the guys outside know. I’ll come back to check on you.”
Despair clawed its way through me.
He moved toward the door and knocked twice. “We’re done.”
The lock clicked. The door opened.
I didn’t know when I’d get another chance. I lunged.
My shoulder slammed into the doctor’s, knocking him off balance. I shoved past, ignoring the startled shout from the guard.
The front door was just ahead.
I could do it.
I could make it.
Arms appeared around me, hauling me off the ground.
“Let go!” I screamed, thrashing against the guard.
“Miss Morales!” the doctor called. “Please calm down. Agitation could make you feel worse.”
He could shove his fake concern straight up his ass.
“I said let go!” I kicked, fought, desperate to break free.
“MIA.”
A familiar voice cut through the chaos, making me grow still. I snapped my head toward the sound.
My stepmother stood at the end of the hallway. Her cane rested in one hand, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders.
“You can’t do this,” I snarled.
She began her slow journey toward me. The doctor slipped out of the apartment, leaving me alone with her and the guards, one of whom still had his arms locked around my shoulders.
I twisted in his hold. “Tell him to get off me. I’m leaving.”
She stopped in front of me, her lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. “How could you do this to your father?”
“Do what, exactly?” My voice trembled. “How have I harmed him? What exactly did I do that justifies you holding me here?”
She scoffed, her eyes narrowing. “You’re lucky no one found out. You know very well what would happen if your relationship leaked to the media. You and Gino Ferraro’s son…” Her lip curled. “He and his family will rot in prison—or at least the ones still alive.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “Who died in the explosion?”
She knew, I was sure of it. But her expression didn’t give anything away.
“Aris. Tell me. Please.”
She shifted her weight, her heavy silver earrings jingling. “Helping your father with the campaign was a privilege. And yet you were always so ungrateful. Always complaining about how busy you were.”
“A privilege?” I shot back, my voice raw. “It was an obligation forced onto me.”
She took a step closer. “I would’ve done anything to take your place.”
“And I wish you had! I never wanted it!”
“So you tried to sabotage your father’s dream in some kind of childish tantrum? Now he knows I was right about you, Mia.”
I stared at her. “What?”
“I told him from the beginning—you were bad luck. I felt it the moment I met you. I never liked you, never wanted you around. Even as a kid, the sweet and innocent exterior you put on was all fake, wasn’t it? When Carlos sent you away, it was bliss. But then you had to come back.”
A tear carved a path down my cheek. There it was, all out in the open. I didn’t have to wonder anymore. Her words confirmed all the fears I’d carried deep inside my heart.
She didn’t love me.
She never had.
I wasn’t her daughter in any way that mattered.
To her, I was an inconvenient burden, nothing more.
“Dad asked me to come back,” I whispered. “He asked me to come back and take care of you. What kind of a bad intent could you have possibly seen in that?”
“You liked parading yourself around here, reminding me of everything I couldn’t give him,” she spat. “You’ve caused me so much pain.”
A bitter taste flooded my mouth. How was it possible for her thinking to be so twisted?
“I tried to tell Carlos I didn’t want you here, but he wouldn’t listen. He’ll listen now. Now that he sees you for what you really are.”
Dark thoughts pressed in. Her words tore through old wounds, digging into places I’d never managed to heal.
She loathed me this whole time. What kind of person looks at an eleven-year-old girl and decides she’s bad luck? Who spends years trying to push her only remaining parent away?
My stomach twisted.
This was whose approval I’d spent years chasing?
The thought felt laughable now.
She could hate me. The whole damn world could hate me.
I didn’t care anymore.
I just needed Romolo to be alive.
