The red-eye flight was the perfect escape, a numbing void where I didn't have to think. I was still battling a hangover, and the turbulence churned my stomach. Although still slightly hungover, barely had time to think about the man at the club or how Susan must have felt.
Shit, I need to apologize to get and John, Good riddance to New York, good riddance to John.
Stepping off the plane in Bucharest, I was hit by a wave of nostalgia. Was it the familiar scent of the air, or was I just feeling sentimental?
As I walked through the terminal, I spotted a man holding a sign with my name. It couldn't be for me; my mother wouldn't risk the media catching me before I even reached the villa.
I reached for my phone. The network was overloaded, and cabs were scarce. Not that I was in a hurry. Tomorrow, my sister would marry that douchebag, and I felt powerless to stop it. Not like I really wanted to stop it anyway.
"Madam Katherine Angelov?"
I looked up to see the man with the sign.
His dark hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, a few stray curls escaping to frame his face. He wore black glasses, their lenses reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights.
"Ileana sent me," he added.
I couldn't help but smile. There was a small comfort in knowing that someone, at least, was welcoming me back. Even if that someone sent a creepy escort. And yes, he definitely radiated a creepy vibe.
He hadn't introduced himself, didn't offer a smile, and wore an expression that suggested he moonlighted as a hitman. The kind of man to use a silencer and kill you in a crowded airport.
"You can call me Peter," he said, opening the back door of the car.
Peter... Peter... Peeterrr.
While he loaded my luggage, I racked my brain, trying to place the name. I repeated it silently until he slid behind the wheel, removed his glasses, and turned to face me.
"Oh, my god!" I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand.
It was him—the man who had driven me to the airport years ago. The irony wasn't lost on me: he was now driving me back to the same cage he had helped me escape.
As he drove, Peter glanced at me in the rearview mirror. His expression had softened, the serial killer vibe replaced with something almost...gentle? Maybe because I could now see his eyes. His kind eyes.
It could also be the relief of seeing a fairly familiar face, or it was the anxiety of facing my family.
My mom, my dad, my cousins; None. No one had attempted to contact me in all these years. I knew them, especially my mother. If she had truly wanted to find me, she would have tracked me down within days. But she hadn't really tried.
"Sir? How are they now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Peter hesitated, his gaze flicking to mine in the mirror. He shrugged, his face hard to know what he was thinking.
"Ileana, as always, is a gem. You remember her, right?" he asked, trying to draw me into conversation.
"As usual, she's the aunt you want to be when you grow up," I said, managing a grimace.
"Your mom remains the same: beautiful and glamorous." He almost rolled his eyes. Maybe he did, just a little.
His right hand groped around the console until he found a protein bar. He offered it to me, and I took it, even though I had no appetite.
"Your cousins are all the same, trying to outdo each other to please your mom and be Mara's friend," he paused, smiling as I took a bite of the bar. "Mara is now a beautiful young gir—woman. She never stopped playing the Fluier, even when she was homeschooled after you left."
My heart twisted. It felt like he was subtly blaming me for my sister's changes. Was she bullied? Or depressed? Why homeschooled.
"Ileana never stops talking about her, even visits her as often as she can," he added, his voice filled with something akin to pride. Like a doting father, or something more.
"You like my aunt?" I asked, unable to resist the question.
He remained silent as he made the final turn onto the long driveway leading to my parents' villa.
The familiar opulence of my childhood home washed over me, and I managed a sad smile. Everything was almost exactly as I remembered it.
The large pool shimmering in the eastern corner, the manicured golf course on the opposite end, and the imposing mansion standing proudly in the center. The guards and maids were strategically placed, ready to cater to every whim. But something had changed.
The security cameras.
More advanced, motion-sensitive, and I wouldn't be surprised if they could scan your soul.
"Ileana is a wonderful woman, Madam Katherine," Peter said with a smile as he turned off the engine. That was enough to confirm his feelings for my aunt.
I stepped out of the car, inhaling deeply. There was always something about the air in Bucharest, especially around this villa, that smelled like wealthy depression. Perfect.
"Katie?" someone called. The voice was so familiar, I would recognize it anywhere.
"Oh my god!" The voice squeaked this time. Before I could brace myself, I was engulfed in a hug. She squeezed me tightly, giggling before releasing me.
Alena, one of my cousins.
She looked much the same, only with larger breasts. Her designer outfit, platinum hair, and sparkling jewelry screamed "old money."
Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk as she took a step back.
"You don't look good," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "What is this you are wea..."
"Please fuck off, Alena," I said dryly, cutting her off. "When I need a worshiper, I'll let you know," I muttered under my breath.
Pissed, I didn't care.
She was one of the reasons I had left in the first place! My mother constantly compared us, holding her up as the "perfect daughter."
I turned and headed toward the house, where a servant led me to my room. It was my old room, untouched. The bed linens looked fresh and smelled faintly of lavender. I assumed they were either constantly washed or replaced.
I closed my eyes, trying to relax. But the only image that surfaced was the last time I had been in this room: the night Mara and I had talked about our dreams for the future, the night before I abandoned her.
"Good to be back?"
I jumped, startled. It was my mother.
Peter was right; she looked almost the same—kind of. It seemed she had gotten a little lip filler, but that was it.
"Hi, Mom," I said, barely a whisper.
She laughed, giving me a brief side hug as she sat on the edge of the bed.
"It took your sister's wedding to bring you home," she said, feigning disappointment. "That wasn't very nice, but I'll have your measurements taken later, just to confirm," she added, her tone unsettlingly casual.
That was suspicious. She wasn't mad, wasn't angry that I had left. Maybe she was simply suppressing her emotions. She had been a 'save face' woman.
"New Jersey; New York wasn't that bad," she said, her eyes twinkling.
Shocked, I recoiled. A small smile played on her lips, and I could tell she was enjoying my discomfort.
"You didn't think I would let my baby stay that far away without knowing where she was, did you? Although it was hard seeing you struggling with your rent" she said, her voice cracking into a small chuckle. "Your father isn't happy, though, but he'll be back in time for the wedding tomorrow."
Mom rose, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and walked toward the door.
"Mara's wedding is going to be a media sensation. Try to surprise her before then." With that, she left, leaving me reeling.
I should have felt welcomed, but I didn't. Not with this unsettling calmness from my mother. Hopefully, Mara would be more forthcoming.
Exhausted, hungry, and filled with dread, I made my way to Mara's room. The same room she had occupied since childhood.
I knocked once, waited a few seconds, and knocked again.
"Huh. Mara? Mara, it's... me," I called out.
I was about to knock again when the door opened, and a maid emerged. I stepped aside to let her pass, but she remained in front of me, her gaze darting everywhere but my face.
"I'm sorry, Madam Katherine, your sister doesn't want to see you," she mumbled.
I had expected it, deserved it, and wasn't cowardly enough to back down.
"She'll change her mind. I need to see her."
My heart sank as I saw her, my little Mara. She had blossomed into a beautiful woman, just as Peter had said. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, but the dark circles under her eyes, her flat expression, and her vacant gaze sent a chill down my spine.
"Hello, sister. I'll see you at the wedding tomorrow," Mara said, her voice blank.
Before I could respond, she pulled the maid inside and slammed the door in my face. She slammed the door!
I sighed. Something within me settled like I had expected it so getting furious wasn't an option.
Could it be that Mara already hated me?
I trudged back to my room, where my phone was ringing. It was Susan. I ignored it, turning my attention to my belongings.
Except for a thin layer of dust, everything was exactly as I had left it. My diary, my jewelry, my favorite outfits, and my Fluier.
"You," I whispered, picking it up. "Can I still play you?" I asked, running my fingers over its smooth surface.
My phone rang again. Same Susan. If I didn't answer, she would keep calling, especially since I had promised to call her as soon as I arrived.
"Hey, girl," Susan squeaked, her voice high-pitched. "You didn't call me!"
I imagined her pouting, surrounded by empty pizza boxes and half-empty cans of soda.
"I'm so sorry. I was trying to get settled," I began " And the other night, I felt like was rude and ...can you hear me?"
The background noise on her end was deafening. I wondered if she was at home or out partying. Knowing Susan, she was probably with her latest conquest, some random hot guy.
"Nahh! You were a drunken mess. Just fill me . Tell me everything! How's Mara? Did your parents give you the third degree?"
I forced a smile. "My mom knew all along that I was in New York. She knew exactly where I was and just didn't care. And my dad? I think he was too busy to even notice I was gone."
Susan laughed, but it sounded forced. There was someone else there, or she was trying to hide something.
I opened my mouth to speak, but what I heard next shattered my world. I recognized that voice anywhere.
"You know it's messed up that we're doing this while she's on the phone, right?" I heard John grunt.
Susan quickly shushed him, and I heard muffled whispers. She was trying to keep me from hearing them.
"What? She's not coming back, is she?"
"She's my best friend," Susan snapped. "She'll need a place to come back to, and I want her back."
My heart ached, but I had to ask. It was more of a statement than a question.
"Joh—John? Is that John, Su?" I whispered, my voice trembling.
Silence.
My heart pounded in my chest. The longer she remained silent, the more I unraveled. I tried to stay calm, but tears welled in my eyes.
"Yeah, it's John. So what?" John said, his voice dripping with arrogance. Without another word, he ended the call.
Phone went dead.
I stared at the black screen until my reflection looked like someone else's ghost.
Knock at the door.
"Madam Katherine, your seamstress is here."
I smiled. It felt like pulling teeth. Just another time to play dress up.
"Send her in," I said. "Make it red. The bride shouldn't be the only one who looks good in blood."