The room felt suffocating. Cold gray walls pressed in from every side, while the silence weighed heavily on Cruzita's chest. The fluorescent light overhead buzzed faintly, casting a harsh glow that made the air feel even harder to breathe.

"Why?" Cruzita screamed, her voice raw with anguish as she clutched the front of his shirt.

"Why did you do this to me?".

Her entire body trembled. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks as grief and rage fought for control inside her.

Vernon said nothing.A faint smile lingered on his lips, as though her suffering entertained him.

Without warning, he grabbed her wrists and ripped her hands from his shirt.

The force sent her stumbling backward. She hit the floor hard. Pain shot through her elbow and hip, but it was nothing compared to the agony tearing through her heart. She felt so helpless. She couldn't do anything than to cry.

"You really do look pathetic," he mocked, clicking his tongue.

He crouched in front of her.He reached forward and gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Don't blame me, Cruzita," he said softly, his voice low and menacing. "Blame him. He's the one responsible for your misery."

She swallowed hard as dread seeped into her bones. Her breathing became uneven and shallow like the air in the room had thinned again.

"They didn't deserve to die," she whispered, her voice cracking. "They didn't."

For a brief moment, something dark flickered across Vernon's face. The amusement vanished from his eyes, replaced by something colder.

"Then you should have stayed dead," he said coldly.

The words hit her so hard. For a second, Cruzita forgot how to breathe.

Her mouth parted, but no sound came out.Her fingers dug into the floor beneath her, searching for something to hold onto, something real, because the world suddenly felt as though it were slipping away beneath her feet.

A broken sob escaped her throat.Her tear-filled eyes stayed locked on him. Many thoughts raced through her mind

How did everything go so wrong?.

How did her life end up like this?.

****FLASHBACK****

TWO DAYS AGO.

"Sorry!" Cruzita hollered apologetically to whoever she accidentally bumped into as she kept running along the bustling streets, checking the time as she ran.

Cruzita skidded to a stop beneath the arched doorway of Purple Chill Café, where she worked as a waitress.

"Finally," she breathed out, trying to calm her heavy breathing.

The morning air along Via Torino carried the sharp scent of roasting chestnuts mingled cinnamon coffee. Above her, the café clock glowed eight thirty on the dot.

"Thirty minutes late," she took in her lip, sighing.

Through the steamy glass, she saw the café was filled to the brim as always, customers occupying every nook and corner.The crowd was nothing unusual, as Purple Chill was one of the best in Milan, the best spot for coffee, desserts, snacks, and pastries.

She smiled and stepped inside.Her eyes immediately scanned the café, meeting Michael's gaze across the counter.

"Is Mr. Dereck in?" she mouthed, her voice barely audible, referring to the manager.

"No," Michael signaled back.

She dashed to the workers' locker room, tossed her worn backpack onto a bench, and quickly changed into her uniform. A crisp white shirt bearing the café logo and a simple knee-length red skirt.

She glanced in the mirror, brushed her pepper-colored hair into a neat bun with her fingers, and dabbed on lip gloss. Her reflection stared back at her, looking pretty.

Moments later she emerged and took her place beside Michael behind the counter.

Michael flashed a quick grin. "Morning, sunshine."

"C'mon, I told you to stop calling me that, whenever we are at work," she said, playfully nudging him with her elbow.

"Someone might hear us,"she whispered, glanced around.

"It wouldn't be a bad thing, sunshine," Michael teased with a wink, and she rolled her eyes.

He slid a steaming cup toward her. "Table seventeen."

"Yes, boss."She carried the cup carefully through the crowded café.

As she approached the table, her attention caught on the customer before she even saw his face. His expensive suit, luxury watch, everything about him scream wealth.

Then he looked up. She gasped inwardly, noticing his blue eyes. Since high school, she'd always had a special liking for guys with blue eyes. It was like her kink. It sounds ridiculous, but true.

"Good morning, sir. Your coffee." She set the cup down. "Enjoy." She turned to leave.

"Miss," he called her back, his voice soft.

She turned back to his table.

"Sir, is there a problem?" she asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

He sat reclined in the chair, studying her face with an unnerving intensity. She felt uncomfortable.

"How are you coping with this life?" he asked, his voice low and smooth. His gaze lingered on her.

"Excuse me?" she blurted out, taken aback by his question.

Though she was used to customers asking how she was faring, this question felt different. He seemed to be probing something deeper.

She offered a faint, almost apologetic smile.

"Sorry, I'm not allowed to relate to customers, but it's fine," she said, looking for an escape as she began feeling awkward.

He inclined his head slightly. "I mean, you shouldn't fall in love with it, or it will be too bad to let it go," he said.

Cruzita swallowed hard. His words, though simple, hung heavy in the air.

"Sorry, do I know you from somewhere?" she tried to laugh it off, but it sounded hollow.

"It's okay," he replied. He took the coffee, took a drink from it, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Nice coffee, by the way," he added.

"Yeah… thanks," she replied awkwardly.

She backed away to the counter, her shoulders tense, a prickling sensation crawling up her spine. She glanced back to see his eyes still fixed on her. She forced another nervous smile.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked, concerned, when he noticed the look on her face.

She blinked hard, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling.

"I… think so. I just had the weirdest conversation of my life," she muttered.

"With who?" Michael frowned.

"Table seventeen. The guy creeps me out somehow. His eyes… his questions…" she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper.

Michael looked up and scanned the tables. They were all occupied, but there was no sign of anyone at table seventeen.

"I don't see anyone," he pointed out.

She looked back. The table was empty.

"That's strange..He was just there a moment ago," she muttered, utterly confused.

"Is there a problem?" Michael asked.

"It's nothing," she said, staring at the table, a growing sense of unease settling in her stomach.

***************

HOURS LATER***

Cruzita walked out of the café with Michael. Their shift was over, and the café had closed for the day.

She yawned, stretching her arms above her head.

"Goodnight," she mumbled.

"C'mon, let me give you a ride," Michael said, slipping his arms around her from behind, his chin resting against her hair.

"Michael... someone might see us."

"Let them," he murmured against her ear. "I'm just hugging my girlfriend."

"What about Derek?"

"We clocked out for the day. We can keep pretending for everyone else, but right now?" His grip tightened. "You have no idea how long I've been holding back from kissing you."

He placed a gentle kiss on her neck.Heat crept up her neck.

"Fine. Let's get out of here."

"Sure." Michael smirked, releasing her to grab a helmet off his parked motorcycle. He handed it to her, watching her fasten the strap, then swung onto the bike behind him.

"Hold on," he said, voice muffled through his own helmet.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, palms flat against the worn leather of his jacket, warm despite the night air. He covered her hands with one of his for just a second before gripping the handlebars and easing onto the road.

The ride took thirty minutes. He pulled up outside her house, and she climbed off, shaking her hair loose before handing back the helmet.

"Thanks for the ride." Cruzita said.

Neither of them moved. They simply looked at each other, reluctant to say goodbye. She finally broke the silence.

"See you tomorrow then." She turned toward the door.

"Sunshine,"he called. She glanced back.

Michael walked over, holding out a small paper bag.

"You forgot this," he said.

She accepted it, peeking inside."Food?"

"You skipped lunch."

She looked at him, touched.

"Why are you being so sweet?," she poke his chest with a finger, blushing.

"Can't have a coworker dying on me," he said, jokingly.

"Seriously?" She frowned.

"I'm kidding," he laughed. He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I just wanted to make sure you ate."

Her heart melted. She stepped closer and pressed a soft kiss against his lips.

"I miss you already," she whispered.

Michael smiled against her forehead before resting his own lightly against hers.

"Same, Sunshine." He gave her one last lingering look.."Goodnight."

"Goodnight,"she waved as he climbed back onto his motorcycle and rode away.

Still smiling, Cruzita looked down at the small bag in her hands before turning toward the house. As she got near the house, she began to hear cries coming from within. The voice was so familiar she could have recognized it even in her dreams.

"Mom!" she called out, her voice laced with fear. Trepidation seized her as she rushed to the entrance.

She opened the door. Her eyes widened, shocked at the sight she met, and the bag fell unnoticed from her hand.

The house was a mess. Furniture overturned, cushions ripped, shards of broken glasses glittering on the ground, but it wasn't the destruction that stole her breath.

It was her family.

Three men in hoodies were kicking her father's side as he curled into himself, groaning. Her mother and sister knelt nearby, crying, pleading for mercy.

"Stay away from him!" she shouted, hurling herself forward, pushing two of the men off her father.

"Little bitch," one of the thugs cursed. He turned, gloved fist swinging. Cruzita twisted, ducking, but the blow found her shoulder, she groaned painfully.

A second thug grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. She yelped and grabbed his hand.

"You can't hurt a lady,"A calm voice sliced through the room, and instantly everything stopped.

Cruzita whipped her head toward the voice. Her eyes meeting a pair of blue eyes. Her brows knitted, as she received him. It was the stranger from table seventeen.

He sat majestically in an armchair, legs crossed, arms folded. A slow smirk curled his lips.

"We meet again,"

A chill ran down her spine. Every instinct in her scream one thing...Run.