Viviana looks over my shoulder, checking out my tablet’s screen. I’ve manipulated her photograph of the White Cliffs of Dover into artwork. The blend of a real photo with synthetic elements makes for a unique result. She stares for a long time, really taking it all in, assessing every detail, before finally saying, “This is really good, Milly.”

I beam. “Thank you.”

Her eyes travel around the cramped space, which is filled with various portraits I’ve been working on over the past few months, along with the Torin I had shipped here, and several boxes from Tampa that need to be unpacked. “All of this is incredible. It amazes me, how talented you are.”

Shortly after I started painting again, I moved down to the basement. The lighting isn’t great down here, but there’s more room to store my canvases, and I don’t feel guilty about living in Siena’s space anymore.

“We booked another client,” Viviana says, still looking around. She’s stops to stare at my painting of a fire burning inside the ocean, one I thought I’d hidden away. My cheeks warm as I remember where I drew inspiration for it.

“That’s great,” I say, clearing my throat. “What for?”

“An American modeling company—this one is amazing, Milly. You can really feel the passion you put into it.”

My whole face burns. I look back at the screen on my tablet, shifting uncomfortably. “A modeling company, huh?” I say, hoping to change the subject. “What do they want?”

“They need a website, flyers, and logos. They asked for original artwork, too. They’re paying big money.”

Viviana and I realized we were a good team by accident. I’d been doing exactly what I’m doing now, manipulating one of her old photos, and she ended up selling it to a client. She morphed her old business into a new one—Viv & Mila Designs. Word of mouth traveled fast, and we’ve been slammed with jobs. She upped her original prices, and now we’re talking about moving into our own flat. Somewhere with enough space for an office.

It’s crazy to think not long ago, I’d almost boarded a plane back to Florida. If I’d gone back home, I’d never have started painting again. I’d be stuck in some office cubicle, crunching numbers. And I’d hate myself for not forgiving Viviana.

“Hey, I was thinking,” she says, turning to face me. “What if we didn’t get a flat in London?”

I look away from the tablet. “What’s wrong with London?”

She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Well, for one, your visa is about to expire. I have dual citizenship with the US. And if we move to the states, we’d be closer to the majority of our clients. There are more design conferences and classes over there. I bet Dad would even let us stay in the old Serra mansion, the one in New York. He’s always in his flat in Manhattan so it’s not like he’s using the house. We’re making really good money, Milly. Long term, it seems like a better fit.”

“What about Aunt Care and Uncle Hugo? What about Leo?” I may not have forgiven Leo, but I would never try to interfere with Viviana’s bond with him.

“We can always come back to London to visit. And Leo wants to shadow Dad at his company. He’ll be traveling back and forth between here and the states.” She sits on the edge of my bed. “What do you think? It could be an adventure.”

She sounds really excited about the idea. I suppose we can’t stay in this house forever, especially if we want to make this business work.

“Okay,” I say, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

She leans in and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug. “We’ll talk about it more after the training session. You don’t look ready, by the way. Leo is going to be here any minute, you know.”

I glance at the time on my tablet. Crap. I got so caught up with the photo manipulation, I forgot all about the session. “Give me five minutes.”

I throw on some gym clothes, put my hair up into a messy bun, then slip on some Adidas. Leo is standing by the door, where he always waits, holding two cups of coffee. Viviana takes one and kisses him on the cheek. He tries to hand me the other, his repeated offering of peace, but as always, I ignore him and the coffee. When I said he would kill our relationship by forcing me to marry Casper, I meant it.

Or at least I’m trying to mean it.

The whole coffee thing is growing on me. One of these days, I’m going to be too tired, and when that aroma hits me, I’ll probably take the cup without realizing what I’m doing. Then Leo will have secured a peace treaty all in the name of sleep deprivation. Eh, I suppose it’s inevitable. One day I’ll forgive him. But not anytime soon.

During the training session with Sergio, we focus on our kicks. I accidentally land one in Sergio’s shin, and he hops around on one foot, his face turning pale. For a moment, I think he’s going to lose it, but after a few deep breaths, we take up where we left off. The poor guy tries to play it cool, but he limps and keeps rubbing his leg when no one is looking.

As we’re leaving, I’m the last one out the door, and Sergio stops me. “Amelia, wait.”

I turn around, adjusting the strap of my gym bag. “Did we forget something?” Viviana is notorious for forgetting her phone everywhere we go.

“No, you didn’t forget anything—do you have any plans Friday night? I was ah, wondering if you’d like to have dinner with me.”

Whoa. That came out of nowhere. Viviana looks back at me, and I gesture one finger to let her know I’ll catch up in a minute.

“Didn’t Leo tell you about my situation?” I ask, tilting my head. I don’t wear a ring, so I’m not sure how informed he is.

Sergio nods. “He did.”

“So then you know I’m married, right?”

“I thought it was in name only?”

“Yeah, it is.” I swallow, pressing my lips together. “Look, Sergio, I really appreciate the offer. It’s just…Vivvy and I are moving back to the states soon, and I’m not sure getting involved with someone right before moving is the best idea.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.” He rubs his hand over his shaved head. “No one told me.”

“It’s a recent development. We haven’t nailed down all the plans yet.”

“Well, hey, I’m going to hate to see you go. You two are my favorite clients.”

I smile. “Yeah, me too.”

“You’ll continue training over there, right?”

“Definitely.”

He nods sadly. “Good. I hope it works out for you.”

“Thanks, Sergio. For everything.”

* * *

“I knew he liked you,” Viviana says as we’re walking up the driveway to the townhouse.

“Really? It came as a surprise to me.”

“He always went too easy on you.”

I’d actually had the same thought before, but never linked that to a possible crush. Sergio is patient, sometimes too patient, and I think I have the type of personality that needs the boot camp drill instructor in a trainer.

“Do you like him?” she asks, sounding curious. “Because we can always change our plans. If there’s something here for you…a spark or something…we can stay.”

There it is. The sweet nature Viviana hides from most people. “That is so unbelievably nice, sis. But there are no sparks.”

After Casper, I’m not sure there will ever be sparks again. I frown, wondering if I’m doomed to a life of lackluster men in comparison. As much as I hate him, I have to admit, he had something no one else did. An energy that made my soul come alive. There’s no denying that. I think back to that day that he left me alone at Rashi’s house, and I remind myself all over again of how it felt. The shock. The hurt. The betrayal. Casper is nothing more than a coward. Whatever love I felt for him died right there as I cried my heart out on those marble floors. It doesn’t matter how many sparks there were. I’d take a guy without the sparks any day over someone who runs at the first sign of trouble.

It seems he’s moving on just fine anyway. About two months ago, I noticed a flurry of congratulations fill his social media pages, all of which I’m now linked to because we’re married. He passed his bar exam. I guess after his three-year break, he took up law again. I sat there, staring at my phone with my own congratulatory comment typed onto the screen. I never sent it though. I couldn’t bring myself to press the send button.

Besides, knowing him, it won’t last. Casper doesn’t know how to stay in one place for long.

I swallow, trying to remove all thoughts of him from my mind.

Inside the house, Carousel is cooking something that smells heavenly. “Do you know how to cook?” I ask Viviana, thinking of when we move.

“Nope, do you?”

“Not even close to anything like Care’s food. Guess we better enjoy this while we have it.”

As she’s stirring something on the stove, Carousel calls out to me. “Amelia, darling, a package came from your grandmother’s estate. It’s on the counter.”

“Okay, thanks.” Packages have been arriving for the last few months. All in the name of tying up loose ends.

I notice the large cardboard box sitting on the island. The sale of Gran’s house went through a few weeks ago. Tess sold the car, too, along with the majority of what was in storage. I bought her a plane ticket with the money I earned from the car, and she spent a week here with me exploring London. I couldn’t help but notice we went to all the sites Casper and I had mentioned doing, including the National Gallery. As we were sitting in one of the London Eye pods, Tess grilled me about my new life. “Are you happy here?”

I think about her question for a long time before feeling the truth in my bones.

Yeah. I am happy.

Even with a killer hunting me, even with the hell my dad put me through, then topped by the hell Casper put me through, there is still a sense of contentment in being surrounded by family and having a purpose. I mean, I’m painting again. There’s meaning to my life. A passion I’d never experienced before.

Now, everything is finally wrapped up. My old life, turning to dust. I frown as I stare at the box, unable to pinpoint what’s bothering me. The life I had with Gran is becoming a distant memory. It feels so far removed from my new one, and I’m not sure when or how that happened.

Carousel’s phone buzzes against the counter. She picks it up and hands me her wooden spoon. “Be a dear and stir the soup for me.”

I hold it awkwardly in my hand. Does she realize how easily I can mess this up? She really shouldn’t have trusted me with this thing.

Carousel starts yammering away, the phone pressed against her ear. Her usual bubbly voice changes as the conversation keeps going. “What?” she says, and the way she says it causes both Viviana and to look at her. “How…” She pales. The phone slips from her ear, crashing against the floor.

Viviana rushes to her side. “Auntie? Are you okay?”

Carousel doesn’t take her eyes off of me though. “It’s Alessandra,” she says, her voice a terrified whisper. “They found her murdered in her office this morning. Her throat had been slit with her own scalpel.”

* * *

It takes me forever to get to sleep. When I last checked the time, it was two thirty in the morning. Lately whenever insomnia strikes, I tire myself out by painting. It helps me work through whatever emotions I’m feeling, or as Viviana says, becomes an outlet to escape reality.

The insomnia only started happening after Casper left. I should’ve felt safer, I was married, it seemed the Serra killer had no more use for me, but those aren’t the emotions I’ve been trying to work through. This isn’t about fear.

I’m trying to get it out, this dark thing inside of me that still craves him. Maybe if I put it on a canvas, it won’t eat me alive anymore. With every brush stroke, I hear myself chanting, Get it out! Whatever it is would be out there in the world instead of inside of me, spreading through my veins like toxic poison. But of course, that feeling never fully goes away. Painting helps me zone out, but by the time I’m through, I can still feel it lingering, burrowing deep inside my stomach, making me remember that he owns me.

God, I hate him.

I hate that he turned me into this girl, the kind of girl that can’t get over the guy who broke her heart. I want to be stronger than that. And most of all? I hate that when I’m terrified, like I am now, that he isn’t here.

Alessandra’s dead.

She was married. Her last name had been changed. She hadn’t been a Serra in years. But she’s dead.

It almost feels like the killer is mocking my attempts to escape my fate through marriage. Like he’s sending me a message. No one in this family is safe.

Oh, geez. I’m making it about me when I shouldn’t. My aunt, who I’d never gotten to know, is dead, all because she was born into the wrong family. This isn’t about me.

But somehow…it is.

I’ve known all along I’m a target. But for the first time since finding out about my family, I’m starting to truly feel afraid.

I finally fall asleep, but it’s a restless sleep, full of tossing and turning and nightmares. I see Alessandra’s face, her eyes wide with shock as blood drips from her neck. My skin breaks out in a cold sweat. Oh, God. Make it stop.

Thankfully, it does stop. But the restlessness doesn’t. Instead my dreams veer into a different direction. Casper is there, his masculine scent surrounding me. I feel his lips on mine, his warm tongue invading my mouth. My body instantly ignites, my skin tingling, my head spinning, and I relive that out-of-control drowning sensation I felt the last time we were together. This is exactly what I need. To stop thinking about all the ways I could be killed. To lose myself with him again, inside our own little ocean. It doesn’t matter if it’s just a dream, or that I hate him. Right now, he’s the only thing helping me forget.

The feeling becomes so strong, it no longer feels like a dream. It’s too powerful. Too tangible.

My eyes fly open.

“Casper?”