Lucas
“I made it to detective, mom.”
“Mom, I’m going to get him this time—I promise.”
Defeated, I looked at the grave in front of me and brushed my hand over the stone.
Carmela Nunes.
Today marked the tenth year of her death, and even at the age of twenty-four, the wounds had still remained. I was not over her wrongful death, and justice had to be served.
I was going to make him pay, even if I had to do it with my last breath.
For most of my childhood, I grew up with a single mother who worked her ass off just so we could get food on our plates. My sorry excuse of a father who was loaded could not give two shits about me.
My mom worked as his maid, and after he got her pregnant—he kicked her out without as much as a single dime.
He killed her.
His abandonment was the cause of my
