Episode 4:The choice
628 Words
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[CLIFFORD’S POV]
We ran.
Halifax to Quebec. Quebec to a motel outside Montreal.
No Moretti name. No money. Just cash and a fake ID.
Eve. In my arms. Finally remembering.
For 3 days, we were free.
She cooked for me. She slept in my chest. She kissed me like the world wasn’t ending.
“Clifford,” she said one night. “I’m not scared. Not with you.”
I should have known it was a lie.
My father always finds me.
They came at 2 AM.
Door kicked in. Four men. Guns.
Don Moretti stood in the doorway.
“Son,” he said.
Eve screamed. I covered her.
“Get up,” my father said. “Both of you.”
He dragged us to a warehouse. Abandoned. Cold.
Eve’s hands were tied. Mine were not.
He trusted me. That was his mistake.
“One year,” he said. “You embarrassed this family for an orphan.”
“She saved me,” I said.
“She made you weak,” he said. He put a gun on the table.
“Here’s your choice, Clifford Moretti.”
He pointed at Eve.
“Option one: You are my heir. You come home. You forget her. I let her live. New name. New country. She never sees you again.”
Eve looked at me. Tears. No sound.
“Option two,” he said. He pointed the gun at her head.
“You run. You take her. And I kill her. Right now.”
The room went silent.
I could hear Eve breathing. Fast. Scared.
I could hear my heart.
I walked to Eve.
My father didn’t stop me.
I untied her hands. My fingers shook.
“Look at me,” I said.
She did.
“I chose you the night you saved me,” I whispered. “In Palermo. In the rain. I chose you then.”
“Clifford, no,” she said.
“Yes,” I said. I kissed her.
Not desperate. Not hungry.
Goodbye.
I kissed her like I was memorizing her mouth. Like I was saying her name for the last time.
She sobbed into me. “Don’t choose me. Choose to live.”
“I am living,” I said against her lips. “This is living.”
I pulled back.
I picked up the gun.
I aimed it at my father.
“Let her go,” I said.
He smiled. “Or what? You’ll kill me? Then you’ll never be free.”
He was right.
If I killed him, his men would kill us both.
If I didn’t, he’d kill her.
There was no third option.
So I chose the fourth one.
I turned the gun on myself.
“Clifford!” Eve screamed.
I pulled the trigger.
Click.
Empty.
My father laughed. “You think I’d give you a loaded gun, boy?”
He grabbed Eve by the hair.
“Last chance, son. Heir. Or corpse.”
I looked at Eve. Blood on her lip from biting it.
She nodded. Once.
Choose to live.
“I choose,” I said. My voice broke.
“Speak up,” my father said.
“I choose… to be heir,” I said.
Eve’s face shattered.
“Good boy,” my father said. He let her go.
“Take her to the border,” he told his men. “New passport. New name. She disappears tonight.”
“Clifford,” Eve whispered.
I couldn’t look at her.
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t make me remember this.”
They dragged her out.
She didn’t scream. She didn’t fight.
She just looked at me. Like I had shot her myself.
The door closed.
My father clapped my shoulder. “Proud of you.”
I nodded.
Inside, I was dead.
- Writer
