They marked the date quietly. Two years had passed since her mother, Lucia, was taken. The papers had called it an ambush. No name. No arrest. Two days later her sister, Gloria, was gone, too. The hospital said there was an accident. Angelina never believed it. The two deaths had hollowed their house. They kept silent and asked questions like a dull ache.
They stood at the stone in the Beverly hills cemetery. The sky was thin and pale. Wind pushed dry grass along the paths. Paul (Angelina's father), Roland (Angelina's brother) and Angelina leaned on the granite that held both names. Angelina held a single white flower. Her fingers were cold. Roland's jaw was tight. Paul looked smaller than she remembered. They had come to remember. To tell the dead they had not been forgotten.
Angelina laid the bloom on the stone and bent her head. Her voice was small.
"Mum," she said. "After they destroyed your company, destroyed everything from you, destroyed our family, they ended up killing you for no reason."
Salt filled her mouth. Words came faster.
"Gloria. On your way back home after you heard the bad news, you left us in a terrible car accident. Who did this to us? Who took you away from us, my precious mum, my precious sister? It shall not go well with that person."
Her breath shuddered.
"Mum, since you left, life has become difficult for us. We started rebuilding everything from the crash. We missed you very much. Rest in peace."
Her crying surprised her. It was raw and sudden. Paul put his hand on her shoulder. His palm was warm and rough. Roland stepped closer and put an arm around her waist. "It will be okay," he said. "They are gone. But they are with us. Always."
Angelina thought of Lucia folding clothes and smiling at bad news until it softened. She thought of Gloria's loud laugh and how she could drag light into a room. The memories cut. Tears felt like rebellion against the stone.
***
They left the cemetery in a slow line. Uncle Ethan's house was only minutes away. It had a low wall and potted plants by the steps. Warm light glowed through the window. Nadia (Angelina's cousin) ran down the path and hugged Angelina before Paul reached the door. Savannah, Ethan's wife, met them with a tray of tea and a quick laugh that tried to lift the day.
They sat around the table. Plates passed. The food was simple and good. Ethan told a story about a lost parking ticket and made Paul laugh. For a time the weight in Angelina's chest eased. Ethan pushed a joke farther until Roland slapped the table. Laughter moved through the room like a small wind.
"You are getting old," Ethan said with a grin. "You are twenty-eight now. Try to get married. I will be there to throw confetti."
Angelina smiled. "I know," she said. "I have someone. Very soon we will get married."
Ethan made a face of mock horror. "Who is the brave prince who wants to take you away from me?"
Angelina laughed. "Uncle, you are so funny."
She looked at her hands. "It is Edmund. I love him."
Ethan clapped like a fool and wiped his hands on his knees. "Good," he said. "If it is right for you, it is right for us."
They ate slowly. Nadia teased Roland about a jacket. Savannah brought dessert and set it between them like a peace offering. For a little while Angelina let herself be ordinary. The jokes and food came in neat pieces and she fit into them.
Her phone buzzed in her bag. Dan's name flashed on the screen. A thin heat ran along Angelina's skin. Dan called often. He called when he wanted company or wanted to own the day. Angelina had kept him at arm's length. She had said 'No' more than once. She touched the phone and slid the call away. Don't answer, she thought. This guy again. Can't he leave me alone? I said I'm not interested.
***
They left with hugs and small waves. The sun slid toward the horizon. Paul drove. Roland sat behind and pressed a napkin to a small bruise forming at his temple from laughing too hard. Angelina buckled her seatbelt and folded her hands in her lap. Streetlights woke like small lamps. For a moment she thought of Gloria on the road. The memory struck like a cold hand.
They had not gone far when a dark car fell in behind them. It stayed too close. Paul glanced in the rearview and frowned. Another car slipped up on the other side. Faces loomed behind tinted glass. The cars moved like they knew the route.
Paul slowed, then sped up. The second car cut across and boxed them in. A shadow moved on the road. Paul slammed the brakes. The car hit a raised bump too fast. The hit flung Angelina forward. Her forehead hit the glass with a sharp snap. Warm blood slicked her hairline. Pain flared white and hot. Paul's chest struck the steering wheel. Roland grunted and braced.
Doors opened. Men moved with cold efficiency. One hand clamped over Angelina's mouth. Another hit Roland hard on the head. Paul yanked for his door and someone else hauled him out. They pushed them down onto the pavement like broken things.
Rope bit into Angelina's wrists as they tied her hands behind her back. The rope smelled of oil and dust. A rough cloth shoved into her mouth muffled a cry. Paul reached for her and could not find her face through his own fear. A cuff closed on his wrist. Roland was gagged and shoved to his knees. The attackers moved precisely and without waste. Nothing about them hesitated.
They shoved the three of them into the back of a van. The air inside smelled of old rubber and oil. Blindfolds pressed over their eyes. Someone hissed orders. The van started. The world turned and became a blind, noisy spin. Angelina kept her eyes closed because the smell of smoke made her feel sick.
The van stopped. Feet thudded. Hands hauled them out. Blindfolds came off. Gray light cut the room. It was a square space with old plaster and a single hanging bulb that was not lit. Cigarette smoke hung in the air. The floor was rough. A taste of metal sat at the back of Angelina's mouth.
They were pushed and tied to chairs and posts. Paul sat hunched, his eyes wide. Roland kept blinking as if trying to find air. Angelina tested the knot with her shoulder. The ropes were tight. She could not feel her left hand.
In a corner sat a man bound and banded. He was older. White showed at his temples. A thin pale scar ran from his jaw to his cheek. He breathed quick and shallow. He kept his face turned away like a man who wanted to be invisible. Near him lay a small pile of cigarette butts and a chair knocked over. The room had the dry smell of old arguments.
Angelina worked her jaw around the cloth in her mouth and spat a little blood. She looked at Paul. He tried to nod but his breath came slow. Roland forced a smile that did not reach his eyes. Angelina's thoughts slid to Gloria on the empty road. The memory folded into the room like a shadow.
Who had done this? Business enemies? A random gang? The men who had taken Lucia years ago? Nothing fit. The pieces lay loose on the floor.
A shape moved in the doorway. Light from the corridor made a straight line on the floor. A figure blocked the frame. The angle of the shoulders, the casual fold of a coat — Angelina felt the cold certainty of recognition and her mouth went dry.