Fall For My Ex’s Mafia Father by Caroline Above Story

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thinking through- 

His face falls, then, into a dark expression. “Leave the horse,” he says, grabbing Fay by the arm. She drops the reins in shock, her face going pale. 

“Wait, what happened?” she asks, confused as he pulls her out of 

the stall. “I can’t leave Heathcliff like this – ” 

“The grooms will handle it,” Kent growls, pulling her towards the front of the stables, snapping at a groom as they pass and pointing back towards Heathcliff’s stall. The groom instantly understands, heading towards the back. 

“Kent!” Fay says, still shocked. “What’s happening?!” 

But he doesn’t answer as he hauls her to the car, dropping her arm and climbing into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind him. 

Kent doesn’t say a word to me the entire ride home. 

I 

I twist my hands in my lap, looking over at him a few times, noting that his face is growing increasingly angry with every passing mile. I shrink back in my seat, wondering what the hell I said – what I could have done wrong – 

I trace his anger back – when had it started? I guess when I mentioned my cousins, the conversation about Fiona – 

But that’s just a coincidence – it has to be – there’s absolutely no 

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way that Kent wouldn’t have thoroughly background checked 

every person he lets into his life- 

If he didn’t know…. 

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I worry about it the whole way home, but I’m too scared to say anything. What would it do, anyway? 

After we pull into the garage, Kent quickly climbs out of the car and slams his door, not saying a word to me as he storms into the house, past one of the guards that came to the door to greet us and report. The guard – Jerome, I see stares after Kent in shock. and then turns to me with a curious expression. 

I just shrug and shake my head as I climb out of the door, letting him know that I have no idea. 

I see that Kent has left chaos in his wake on the way to his office, people standing in the hallway staring after him with worried expressions. As I walk slowly into the house, I see Daniel come down the stairs. He catches my eye. 

“What happened?” he whispers, looking concerned, but before I can answer Kent comes out of his office again, fury in his every line. 

“You two,” he demands. “Upstairs.” 

“Dad,” Daniel says, taking another step down, putting out a hand to offer to help – 

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“I said upstairs!” Kent yells, and Daniel and I both jump. I scurry to where Daniel is standing on the stairs, grabbing his arm and pulling him up with me. 

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Daniel whispers to me as he follows. 

“I don’t know,” I whisper back, pulling him towards my room. He 

comes in with me and I shut the door behind us. But even the door 

can’t block out Kent’s next bellow. 

“Fiona! Get down here! Now!” 

Daniel stays in my room with me for a while. He won’t admit it 

as readily as I do, but we’re both scared to leave. We watch old movies, surviving on bottled water and some gummy bears that Daniel had stored away in his room. 

Eventually, though, he has to go to his night class. He apologizes as he goes, looking back at sorrowfully as he leaves. I think he knows that I’d pay anything to be go with him right now. 

I wait for a little bit, my eyes on the door to see if Fiona will come. Hardly a night passes when she doesn’t stop by my room to say goodnight, at the very least. 

But there’s no sign of her. 

A couple of hours pass with no word from anyone and my stomach starts to growl so hard I can’t stand it. I haven’t eaten anything real since my blueberry muffin that morning, and I’m 

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starving. 

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Hesitant, I peek out my door. The whole house is silent, no guards 

or servants anywhere. Curious, I step out into the hall further, 

looking around. Still, no one. 

I creep down the stairs, walking as softly as I can, but still, I 

encounter no one. Anxious, I hurry towards the kitchen, hoping there’s something easy to grab. 

When I push open the door, though, the kitchen too is empty. I step into the room, marveling, never having seen it quite so silent. My stomach growls loudly then, prompting me forward. 

I scurry over to the giant industrial fridge, pulling it open. Seeing that it’s well stocked with food, I grab a clean plate from the dish rack and start to fill it up. French bread, cheese, some prosciutto and fruit – I smile at my haul, excited. 

As I close the fridge, though, I hear a noise. 

It’s a groan – thick with misery, but so quiet that I’d never have heard it if the house itself hadn’t been as silent as the grave. I go very still, my eyes darting immediately to the small white door that leads down into the basement, waiting to see if it comes again. 

I almost leap out of my slippers at the next sound, though–a heady shriek that turns into a horrible, horrible scream. 

Reacting on instinct, I run for the door to the kitchen, almost 

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dropping my plate of food as I push through it and dash down the 

hall. I press the food against my chest as I run up the steps, not 

caring if I stain my sweater, heading right for my room. 

I’m panting as I slam my door shut, pressing my back against it. 

What the hell was that? 

Or more importantly, who? 

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