Dinner at Rico’s mansion felt tense from the start. The table was big and shiny, the kind that looked too fancy even to touch. The food looked and smelled good, but Calla couldn’t eat much. Her stomach felt too tight.
Rico sat at the head of the table, calm and scary as always. Calla sat on his left, with Eli next to her, and Sofia was on Rico’s right. The seats felt too far apart, yet the air between them was thick and stifling. The sound of spoons and forks was all that filled the room at first.
Calla kept her eyes on her plate, twirling the pasta with her fork slowly just to keep her hands busy. Her mind wouldn’t stop racing. She tried to remind herself that this was just dinner, but it didn’t feel like that. Rico’s eyes were on her a lot—quiet and steady. He didn’t look angry, but so
