Chapter 1: Alexandra’s POV
Tamper justice with mercy.
But mercy didn’t stitch together the hollow space inside my chest where something warm used to live.
No. I wanted them to burn. All of them.
Because no one truly understood real pain until it gutted them. Until they felt it rise in their throat like bile and settle in their bones like winter.
People talked about forgiveness like it was a virtue. Like it was easy.
Well, it wasn’t. It possibly a supernatural strength to forgive, and that was something I didn’t have.
Those people that wanted to dilute justice with mercy, they’d never stood in the ruins of their own life, sifting through ashes, praying for a reason not to become just as cruel as the monsters that hunted them.
I keeping angry. But pain… pain taught me to stop asking for justice.
It taught me to take it.
coffee,”?
“Girl, did you just get out of bed?”
I did a lazy nod, sticking the toothbrush into my mouth.
There was short-lived silence before Eden cursed under her breath.
“I swear, Lexi, If I wasn’t the only friend you had, I’d have kicked you out of my life, shut the doors, and thrown away the keys forever. Why are you stressing me out?”
“There’s always a spare key somewhere. Or maybe a c***k on the door that I could break and crawl right through…”
I trailed off when I saw my red puffy eyes through the small bathroom mirror hanging over the sink.
I cringed at my reflection, taking in the chaotic mess of my hair, the coffee stain splattered across my oversized tea tear-stained cheeks, and the deep-set frown etched on my face.
“Lexi...” Eden’s voice was quiet and laced with the same emotion I felt. “You know what today is. You know how important it is that you show up, and on time too.”
I could have scoffed. She spoke like she’d been there. Like she had seen half of the horrific sight I witnessed that night.
A searing ache ripped through my chest, stole my breath, and crushed me in an instant.
My knees wobbled like jelly and my fingers curled tightly over the edge of the sink to keep myself steady. I managed a small bitter smile.
“I know.”
Another wave of silence settled for a minute longer before Eden blew out a breath.
“You can do this.” She paused. “Lexi, you’ve got this, you hear me? I’m rooting for you all the way. By the time you’re done giving them hell, your parents will be so proud of you.”
The flashes came rushing back; trails of scarlet soaked on the sofa, blood on the floor... everywhere. And their eyes that were once full of life, beautiful promises, and hope, were now empty. Utterly lifeless.
Hot tears pricked the back of my eyes and burned my throat so I couldn’t speak.
I nodded when she promised to call back later before hanging up.
The moment I got into the shower, I folded under the hot water and crumpled to the floor, barely able to support my weight.
Of course, I knew what today was.
Wouldn’t it have been a sin to forget?
I shouldn’t have been there but we had a school break, so I returned home eager, excited, and completely oblivious that I would spend less than seventy-two hours with them before they were snatched away from me.
Nothing could have prepared me for the disturbing sounds of gunshotsand scattered rain of bullets in the living room that night, while I’d ignorantly hummed away in the showers, unaware of the uninvited visitors that had broken into our house.
And when the noise finally registered, I’d been slow to react.
My first instinct, as it always was when there were threats of danger, was to take cover. And so, I did. Like the timid coward I was, I scrambled out of the shower, and hid in the closet, soaked with salty tears and soap suds.
And when everywhere became still and quiet again, before I got to the living room, it was too late.
Three years ago, on this exact day, my parents were brutally murdered. Shot in their own home and left lying in cold blood.
For days and nights unending, I’d screamed and cried hysterically in the station, pleading that the murderers be found and brought to the book to pay for what they had done. But the police ignored me, kept my parent’s case file under lock and key. They wouldn’t revisit the investigation or touch any part of the crime scene with a ten-foot pole.
It took the full stretch of those three years to battle my grief and decide exactly how I would get well-deserved justice. If no one was going to do anything, then I decided that I would step up and be the hero, even if it meant growing a spine and being a completely different person to do what needed to be done.
I already had a list of suspects. A short list. The night before they were killed, I overheard my parents talk about them in absolute fear and I’d never heard my mother so scared about anything before.
The prime suspect was the head of one of the most powerful and influential families in the United States.
Mario Morano.
After my college graduation, I invested hours into proper research on him and came across rumors about him and his family. There were backdated news stories that he was a dangerous and ruthless Italian Mob leader involved in some illicit activities but nothing sufficed to prove the claims.
Somehow people mysteriously stopped paying attention to the accusations, and life moved on.
Everyone else’s except mine.
Since, I had every reason to believe he had a hand in what happened to my parents, my life remained right there, in that night, on that floor, cradling their bloodied bodies in my arms, and screaming for death to take me too.
Eden tried her best to be supportive, but no one knew or fully understood the burden that crushed me deeper and deeper every passing day.
A few times, it felt easier to pretend, play it cool, and live a normal life like everyone else. But the memories haunted my dreams at night and waking thoughts every morning.
So, today, I was determined to do something twenty-year-old me wouldn’t have done.
Today was not only my parents' memorial; it was also the day I would go for an interview at Morano Group, fully prepared, and ready to convince my parent’s murderer to hire me as his secretary.
