Starlet: A Dark Retelling - Cora Kenborn Page 0,135

Javier Rubio. It’s a full confession. Make sure he gets it. I was told you’re to tell him it’s another “tip” and that he will understand. Don’t worry about money. Hilda told me about an off-shore bank account. We’ll be fine.

The only way Dominic and I can live, is to die. We have too many eyes on us to ever be at peace any other way.

Never regret the past, Luciano. I don’t.

Love,

Alexandra

Folding the letter, I tuck it back into the envelope and read the remaining one. This one is much shorter, with sharp printed letters.

Luciano,

I think I’ve always known, too. Mom didn’t tell us because she feared I’d follow in my father’s footsteps. What she didn’t understand is fifteen years ago, I learned fate always finds a way.

Everything the media needs to know is in Rubio’s note. Plain and simple.

Who knows? Maybe fifty years from now, we’ll be Hollywood folklore. Wouldn’t that be some shit?

Dominic

I tuck everything back inside the envelope, stopping only to pull out the mentioned smaller sealed one meant for Detective Rubio. Then, sliding the trash can out from under my desk, I drop both letters and the birth certificate inside, flick open my Zippo lighter, and watch as they all go up in bright yellow flames.

“Goodbye, son.”

Epilogue

Dominic

Five Years Later

“Mama!” Violet squeals as she takes off running, her long, dark hair swinging all around her.

Angel bends down, a wide smile breaking across her face as she drops every bag in her hand and scoops her up. I stop where I am and just stare. Every time I see her, she takes my breath away. Not because she’s beautiful but because she’s mine. Because we made it.

Not many people could survive what my Angel did. But then again, ever since the first moment she kissed my hand and asked me if I was God, she’s fought to live and mark her place in this world.

Yes, my Angel.

She never told me much, and I didn't ask. All I know is when I cut through the fence and saw her swim to our meeting place on the other side of the reservoir, she spoke the three words I’ll never forget.

“Alexandra is gone.”

She was right. In five years, I haven’t seen or heard her. The only person in Angel’s head is Angel. My Angel. My rook. The woman I fell in love with.

And the one who knew how to swim.

“How did it go?” I ask, leading the two of them out of the Naples airport. “Anything new and exciting this time?”

Angel just gives me that secret smile of hers. The one that drives me crazy because she knows it pushes my buttons. “Maybe. Let’s get this little one home first, and I’ll tell you.”

“Nooo,” Violet whines, rubbing her eyes. “Nooo, segreti!”

Angel just laughs, handing off our now pissed-off daughter to me as she opens the door. “Great. I’m being chastised by a bilingual four-year-old. You just had to pick Italy, didn’t you?”

I shrug. “I like pasta.”

She rolls her eyes. “Bullshit. You like being near your roots.”

Violet lifts her sleepy head off my shoulder. “Non si dicci, Mama!”

Angel’s eyebrows shoot up. “Did she just scold me for cursing?”

Now I’m really laughing because—I’m sorry—that shit’s funny.

“What else have you been teaching her while I’ve been gone?”

Buckling Violet into her car seat, I give her a kiss on her forehead and climb into the driver’s seat. “Maybe to have better aim than you.”

She pretends to be offended. “This again? I shot you in the ass. Would you prefer if I’d circled around to the front?”

I glance in the backseat, making sure Violet is asleep. “Dick threats are not funny, rook.”

She just smirks and tucks a lock of her short blonde hair behind her ear.

Five years later, and I’m still not used to her being a blonde. I don’t like it, but it’s a necessary evil. Just like the long hair that’s currently tied at my nape and driving me batshit is necessary. Like the contact lenses that turn her eyes blue and my eyes brown are necessary evils.

With death comes sacrifice.

As we make our way back to our villa in Sorrento, Angel tells me all about her trip to Los Angeles. I just shake my head. I don’t know why she feels the need to do this every year. To me, it’s tempting fate a little too much, but she claims it’s something she just has to do.

Who am I to question that?

Each time, she always takes the Infamous Hollywood Murders Bus Tour and