Little Girl Called Her Mafia Boss Father — “Someone Has Been Watching Me for 3 Days…”

709 words

Little Girl Called Her Mafia Boss Father — “Someone Has Been Watching Me for 3 Days…”

Part 1

For three straight afternoons, Lily Hart pretended to read the same chapter of Charlotte’s Web without turning a single page.

She stood near the wrought-iron fence at the edge of Easton Academy’s lower courtyard, her navy school blazer buttoned all the way up despite the chill, the Connecticut wind tugging loose strands of dark hair across her cheek. Around her, children shouted over a game of tag, sneakers pounded across the blacktop, and a group of girls in plaid skirts practiced a dance routine they had absolutely not been assigned.

Lily noticed none of it.

Across the street, beneath a red maple that had nearly lost all its leaves, a woman sat on a green park bench.

Same beige coat.

Same paper coffee cup.

Same dark sunglasses, even when the sky was gray enough to promise rain.

The first day Lily had ignored her.

The second day, Lily had watched.

By the third, she knew.

The woman wasn’t there for anyone else.

She was there for her.

At nine years

old, Lily Hart knew what it meant to be watched. Her father had taught her that without ever saying the ugly words aloud. Observe exits. Never repeat a routine if you can avoid it. Notice who is noticing you. Trust patterns more than smiles.

It was one of the strange things about being Roman Hart’s daughter.

Officially, Roman Hart owned a shipping company with offices in Manhattan and warehouses along the Eastern Seaboard. Unofficially, he was the kind of man who made other dangerous men lower their voices when he entered a room.

Lily had never been told every detail. She didn’t need them. She knew enough from bodyguards who called him boss when they thought she couldn’t hear, from late-night phone calls cut short when she stepped into his study, from the way grown men twice his age stood straighter around him.

And she knew enough from loss.

Her

mother had disappeared five years ago.

No funeral. No goodbye. No explanation that made sense to a child.

Just one terrible morning when her mother’s perfume no longer floated through the halls of their house in Rye, New York, and her father’s face had gone so hard it looked carved from winter.

Mama had to go away, he had told her.

Where?

Far away.

Why?

Because she can’t come back.

Lily had cried until she threw up.

Then she had learned what children in powerful houses learned early: if adults refused to answer a question once, they would refuse forever.

Now the woman on the bench shifted.

Lily’s fingers tightened around the book. Through the bars of the fence, she watched as the woman slowly lowered her sunglasses.

Their eyes met.

Lily stopped breathing.

Dark brown. Tilted slightly downward at the outer corners. Eyes full of something broken and starving

and familiar enough to make her knees go weak.

The woman stood too quickly, spilling coffee onto the sidewalk. She turned and walked away without looking back.

Lily’s book slid from her hands and landed open in the grass.

“Lily?” her roommate and best friend, Emma Greene, jogged toward her from the basketball court. “Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

Maybe I did, Lily thought.

That night, long after the dorm lights went out and Emma’s breathing had gone soft and even, Lily slid down from the top bunk and knelt beside the old leather case tucked beneath her bed. She opened the hidden compartment in the lining and pulled out the photograph she still slept near every night.

A man with dark hair and a dangerous face that softened only when he looked at his child.

A little girl with a missing front tooth.

And a woman laughing at something outside the frame.

Lily held the photo against the moonlight and whispered the word she had not spoken aloud in months.

“Mom?”

Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped it.

Then she reached under her pillow and pulled out the old phone her father had given her for emergencies.

He had looked at her very seriously when he handed it over on her ninth birthday

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117-Little Girl Called Her Mafia Boss Father — “Someone Has Been Watching Me for 3 Days…”

Chapter 1 / 2

Chapter 1

Little Girl Called Her Mafia Boss Father — “Someone Has Been Watching Me for 3 Days…”

709 words

5 other stories you may like

Fantasy

My Daughter Came Home From Her Wedding Night Broken — Then One Courthouse Video Destroyed Her Husband’s Family

Fiction

Little Girl Called Her Mafia Boss Father — “Someone Has Been Watching Me for 3 Days…”

5 other stories you may like

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He Left His Pregnant Wife, Then Met His Secret Daughter At His Own Gala

Little Girl Called Her Mafia Boss Father — “Someone Has Been Watching Me for 3 Days…”

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