(NOT EDITED)

   It's been exactly three days. 20 hours. And 35 minutes since I got the letter.

I have been trying my very best to hold myself together and not go psycho.

I also keep begging my body and tear glands to not release fat tears that want to come out.

The letter sat on my desk, on top of a book, right by my red and blue pen holder.

I have read it over and over again. The cryptic and vile words were unsettling to me.

It was like I could not get enough of the letter. I am obsessed over it in a dire way.

On top of the unexpected letter I got, Vincenzo has been ignoring me.

Sure our unexpected lust taking over us happened, but I would have never thought it would cause him to distance himself.

Or be a complete dick for that matter.

In fact, he has been hanging out with Jessica for a couple days now.

Why did it bother me?

I have no fucking clue.

Probably because I was expecting him to be mature about it, instead he ignores me like some teenage girl.

I grab the letter for what feels like the hundredth time.

It has been touched enough that the corners and edges were wrinkled. There was even a brown stain on the bottom from where I splashed coffee on it.

I read over the words once again, thinking of how I got this awful mail.

.........Flashback.........

"Ria!" I yell, walking down the spiraled stairs.

We were supposed to go to a café and shop for shoes thirty minutes ago. She takes forever to get ready.

Well at least I thought, turns out she was not getting ready in her room.

Now I'm on the mission to find her.

I walk in the kitchen only to see muffins sitting in a pan.

"Good morning, dear. Care for a muffin or scone?" Helene, the chef, asks with a bright smile.

"Um fuck yeah!" I pounce on the blueberry muffin, covered in sugar.

"Language."

I wince, giving Helene a guilty smile. ''My bad,' I mouth the same words I always respond with when she says 'language.'

I met Helene the day after we went to that night club. She was on vacation in Romania since I first joined the crime family.

I moan with a mouthful. "These are so damn good, Helene." The muffin is so light and fluffy.

"Thank you, dear."

Helene was a 53 year old, short 5'0 woman with short black hair. Her presence always seemed to make me calm.

In the short time of three weeks, I considered Helene as a motherly figure to me.

I'm guess she felt the same, she said I reminded her of her daughter before she passed.

My heart broke for her when she told me every detail of the deathly car crash her daughter was in.

A drunk truck driver crashed into her daughter, Leanne's little cube car. The car got flipped over.

"Helene, have you seen Ria anywhere? We were supposed to be somewhere." I finish my muffin in record time while she thinks.

"She came in here earlier for a glass of apple juice. She went outside to collect the mail from the mailbox." Helene, explains while washing dishes.

The bubbles and lavender smell from the soap entered my nose.

I pay my farewell before hunting down Ria. The sun was hiding behind clouds. The cool weather felt good against my skin.

It was more than likely going to rain.

Maybe we should cancel our girls day out.

I pass a security guard outside when I finally spot Ria.

A smirk immediately forms on my face when I find her lady friend, Maple right by her side.

Maple holds a small box while Ria carries armfuls of mail.

I run over helping her out. "Hey Maple."

"Hey, are we still going to have a girl day?" She grins brightly, full of happy energy.

"That's depends on your girlfriend. She takes forever to get ready, doesn't she?"

Maple giggles, her cheeks turning a bright red. "Yes she does."

"Hey! I take an average amount of time like every girl on earth." Ria retorts, huffing loud enough for us to hear.

"Besides Maple, baby, you're supposed to stick up for me!" Ria adds with a whine. "Not team up on me."

"Oops, my bad."

Ria huffs once again at Maple's not-so remorseful tone.

We walk in the estate and set the mail on the counter.

I sit on a barstool and spin until I get dizzy.

"Umm...Fran, I didn't know you gave your friends the address to send you mail."

I scrunch up my face in confusion. I haven't gave out any address. Also I don't have any friends besides Ria, Maple, Helene and Lorenzo.

Ria passes an envelope to me as Maple hops on her lap.

"Thanks." I mumble, suddenly feeling suspicious and cautious.

I tear it open and find words with a cursive font, printed on the thin white paper.

Dear Francesca Walsh,

    You do not know who I am, but I know who your are. I remember when your were a young lady, 17 years young. Your Father came to me looking for money.

   I offered him a nice cozy cottage in the countryside of Ireland. I also offered him $30,000 dollars.

Of course he took it all, but with a promise to pay it back in ten years.

I believe your were eleven when your father began to have a gambling problem. He spent most of the money I gave him on poker, slot machines and pubs.

When he found himself bankrupt, he went behind my back and sought more money from an Italian man and his pathetic mafia.

I kept quite when he did this. I wanted to see if he was a man of honor and would come clean. Sadly, he never did.

When his contract in ten years ended he owned both myself and the Italian, money.

When I didn't see any money come to me by the end of the tenth year, I became very impatient, but that's when the Italian, made a deal with me.

A deal that I could benefit from. Peace between our crime families and share profit from goods/weapons.

All in exchange for your father's life.

When your daddy heard about this, he scrambled to collect exactly $30,000. I have no idea where he got it, but he did.

He offered it to me, but time was up. I no longer had interest in his money. All I wanted to do was kill that prick.

That's exactly what I did, but something went wrong that day.

It was only supposed to be the life of your father that was going to be taken, not your mother's.

     I had my second in command record the death of your father, I would send it to other potential money borrowers as a sign not to break the contract.

     I aimed at your dad's head and pulled the trigger, but your oh-so-sweet mama jumped in front of the bullet, killing her instantly.

    Then their 17 year old daughter comes running in, you come running in.

    I'm sorry you had to see that, but what's done is done. Who am I kidding, I'm not sorry at all.

    In fact I want to kill you now! You and the bastard Valentino family murdered Gianni.

    Now I'm going to murder you. Sucks that it had to be this way. I saw the way you brawled with Gianni. You have skill, but my act for revenge is strong.

     I have ears 'everywhere,' Francesca. Don't do anything stupid.

    Be prepared, Walsh. I'll kill you just like I did your father and mum.

                                 Sincerely,
                                Kuznetsov.

My eyes go wide at the letter in my hands. Whoever wrote this killed my fucking mum and dad.

They ruined my childhood.

They made my life hell.

I could have been a doctor or lawyer. I would have never had to have blood on my hands. My life could have been totally different if he hadn't kill my parents.

"Fran? Is everything okay?" Maple speaks up, with worry.

I nod, clenching my teeth, trying my best to stay in control of my actions.

I wanted nothing more then to punch something or someone.

Anything related to my dead parents was a sore spot. A wound even.

A wound that has not healed. Not even began to heal.

Now here this note is, probing at my open wounds.

"Yea I'm fine, just tired." I cover my mouth faking a yawn. "Maybe we shouldn't go out today."

"Aww but I was craving pumpkin bread form a café we were supposed to go to." Ria cries, nuzzling her head into Maple's neck.

"I think canceling it is for the best. It's going to be raining in a few seconds anyways." Maple explain, pointing at the cloudy skies, out the window.

I tightly hold on to the letter, trying my hardest not to knock over an expensive vase, on purpose.

My eyes burn, a sensation I have not felt since the death of my parents.

"Don't cry." I tell myself, hating the feeling of my wet, glossy eyes.

Right when I turn the corner disgust goes through me.

Vincenzo had a girl pinned up against the wall. His mouth on her's. Her familiar blonde hair was messy and her silk red blouse was hitched up.

Jessica.

I hold my breath, more anger then ever before was radiating off me. I have not felt so violent before.

Why the fuck are these events affecting me?

I'm Francesca fucking Walsh!

The deadliest woman in the USA.

I wanted nothing more then to slap Jessica and knock out Vincenzo.

Mixed emotions that I am feeling are making me dizzy.

I walk past them, careful not to make a sound, or make eye contact with one of them.

I slam my door shut, twisting the lock so nobody will bother me.

I quickly get to work looking up the surname "Kuznetsov."

That was the name written on the note and sadly, I can not find any information.

I found an article written by a Russian journalist who died two months ago. Her name was Olga Slava.

Olga wrote an article about a Russian mob who's leader went by the name "Red Sword."

The article wrote,

"On November third, the Red Sword and his gang struck again. The millions of dollars worth of narcotics and cocaine was stolen from the East Moscow dock. Over 35 people were killed and 25 were severely injured.

The Red Sword and his gang are quickly becoming a threat to the Russian families and lives. I advise you to walk with a buddy in the streets or just stay home when it's past midnight."

~Olga Slava, Russian Journalist.

Two days after Olga posted the article, she was shot to death on the streets of Moscow.

The "Red Sword" sounded familiar to me, but I just can't put a finger on it.

.........End of flashback..........

The note was going to be the death of me if I keep obsessing over it.

I need to get out before I do anything stupid. Ria and Maple were out on a date.

They offered me all week to go out with them, but I always had an excuse of why I should not go.

Hanging out with Vincenzo was out of the question. He is a royal ass to me and has been for a while.

He won't even stay in the same room as me.

Lorenzo was probably getting blowed by all the men in the entire universe.

He comes home with multiply men a night.

I finally have some alone time, but it is not wanted right now.

I walk out of my room in a sweater and biker shorts, searching for Helene.

Of course I find her humming a catchy tune, while cleaning the counter tops.

"Oh dear, you're out?" Helene smiles when she sees me. "It's been days since you left your room. I was so worried." She hugs me, brushing back the hair in my face.

"I know I'm sorry I've been distant." I mumble, embracing her back. "I'm kind of hungry, Helene." She laughs making my cheeks turn pink.

"As you should be. Look at you, you haven't had a decent meal in three days, you're skin and bones, dear." She frowns, lifting my arm.

I roll my eyes, she is exaggerating.

"I'll fix you some lasagna with garlic bread, and some fresh squeezed lemonade." Helene gets to work, taking out lemons.

"Thank you that sounds delicious." I warmly thank her. Maybe food will make me feel better.

Whoa I wrote a long chapter!! My Holiday break is over so a long chapter will be rare! Please be sure to vote and comment!
Thanks for reading, see ya 💕