THE DON'S NANNY

The Last Anchor Falls

ELODIE.

The money from the club sat on my kitchen table in a small, uneven pile. The stack of bills stared right back at me—some stained, some damp from sweat. It wasn’t much, but for a moment, it made me feel like I could breathe again, just for a moment.

I counted it twice, then a third time, even though the number didn’t change. Rent would eat most of it, and utilities would take the rest. Whatever survived would be stretched thin across food, transport, and hope. Hope always came last.

Still, I let myself believe. I told myself I was okay. That I had time, and that things weren’t as bad as they felt. Illusions were good at that.

I pushed the money back into the envelope and slid it into the drawer beneath the sink, behind old plastic bags and a broken can opener. It wasn’t hiding. It was pretending, just like me.

As I washed the dishes, my mind drifted—against my will—to the tattooed man from the club. I didn’t even know his name. I remembered the way his eyes stayed on me too long, like he was trying to see through layers I didn’t even know I had. The heat of his hand on my lower back. The quiet way he spoke, like the noise around us didn’t exist. There had been desire without promises and connection without questions.

It should have meant nothing, and yet it stayed with me, lingering like a song I couldn’t get out of my head. It confused me, that memory, because it stood in sharp contrast to everything else in my life. I didn’t have room for desire. I didn’t have space for distraction.

So I pushed it away.

I wiped the counter, took out the trash, and folded laundry that didn’t belong to me—the same safe, mundane things, things that reminded me where I was and how stuck I had become.

Sofia came out of her room, wrapped in one of my over-sized hoodies, her hair messy, her face visibly tired.

“Morning, sis,” she said, yawning.

“Morning, Sofia” I replied, forcing a smile.

Dante followed a moment later, tying his shoes as he walked. He nodded at me. “Hey, Elodie.”

“Hey.”

They moved around the apartment like it belonged to them—which, in a way, it did. Sofia had always been the responsible one. The one with plans. The one who knew how to talk to landlords and doctors and bosses without shaking. My anchor.

Sofia opened the fridge and frowned. “We’re out of milk again.”

“I’ll get groceries,” I said quickly.

She turned to look at me. “Are you sure? I don’t want you stressing about it.”

“I’ve got it,” I said. “I worked last night. I have money.”

She hesitated, the way she always did when she didn’t want to push me but also didn’t fully believe me.

“How much?” she asked gently.

“Enough,” I said, a little sharper than I meant to. Then I softened my tone. “Really. Don’t worry.”

Dante glanced between us. “We can grab some stuff on our way back later.”

“No,” I said. “You’re already doing enough. I’ll handle it.”

Sofia studied my face, searching for cracks. She always did that. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

They started preparing for the day—errands, plans, a future that stretched neatly in front of them. Minutes later I watched them by the door, Sofia laughing at a joke Dante whispered in her ear.

“Don’t forget to lock up,” she said.

“I won’t.”

“Text me later,” she added.

“I will.”

She smiled at me one last time before she left. Dante stopped and turned, walking back towards me.

“You good, though?” he asked, grabbing his keys.

“Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

“Just asking. I just need to know you’re fine,” he said. “Your sister really stresses about you, you know?”

“Yeah, I do.” I answered like I didn’t need a reminder.

“Just take good care, alright?”

I nodded. Even with everything that had been going on with me, Dante had been solidly beside Sofia, which meant being beside me. I was so grateful for his presence in our lives.

“I’ll be fine,” I replied. “Have a nice day.”

He gave me one last nod and walked towards the door, shutting it behind him as he stepped out.

The apartment felt too quiet afterwards.

I made a list of groceries—rice, bread, and eggs—the cheap things I knew that lasted. I counted the hours until I would need to leave, then sat on the couch and stared at nothing, letting the silence settle into my bones.

Time passed strangely that afternoon, too slow and too fast at the same time.

My phone rang suddenly while I was folding a shirt in the bedroom. I didn’t recognize the number. I almost ignored it, but on second thought, I picked it up.

“Hello?” I said.

There was a pause, then a voice floated across the phone—flat, professional, distant.

“Is this Elodie Diaz?”

“Yes...?”

“This is Officer Reynolds with the city police department.”

My heart stumbled.

“We regret to inform you that your sister, Sofia Diaz, and a man identified as Dante Laurent were involved in an incident earlier today.”

My breath caught.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

There was another pause, and then a let-out of breath. “They didn’t survive.”

The words didn’t land at first. They floated, weightless, refusing to connect to meaning.

“I—no,” I said. “That’s not possible. She left here just hours ago.”

“I’m very sorry,” the officer said. “We need you to come down to the station.”

The phone slipped from my hand.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just sat there, staring at the wall, waiting for the world to correct itself.

It didn’t.

When reality finally hit, it came like a collapse. My chest tightened. My breath came in short, painful bursts. The room tilted.

Sofia was gone. She was the responsible one. The strong one. The person who held everything together when I couldn’t. She was the only family. And Dante, oh my God.

I curled forward, my hands pressed to my face, and a sound came out of me that didn’t feel human. It felt broken, raw and endless.

I thought of the grocery list on the counter, of her voice telling me to text her later. There would be no later.

The illusion of stability shattered completely then. It fell off all at once, leaving nothing behind but sharp edges and silence.

And for the first time in my life, I had no one else and no anchor left to hold on to.