*Mia's P.O.V*

Pamela loves ice cream. After killing her husband, she gets herself three cups of strawberry-flavoured goodness.

She finishes everything before her ride stops at the hotel. Once in her suite, she enjoys some lobsters and snacks before resting.

A call from her assistant ushers her into the next day.

"Madame, your in-laws are inquiring -"

"Tell them I'm busy." She yawns.

"But Madame -"

Pamela hangs up. Shuffling to her feet, she studies the sky with a slight grin. Morning breeze whistles through her nightie. Her mind goes empty.

Then, the phone rings again.

"What?!" She yeets the phone across the room. Her fist tightens as she registers the word, 'in-laws'.

Those bitches. I'll show them I'm not just a baby factory.

The thought of seeing her mother-in-law - with all her power and brilliance - freaks Pamela out. If the old lady realises her son is dead, what will she do?

It won't be a secret for long anyway. Pamela has to act fast. She sits back in the bed, thinking.

After two hours, she dyes her hair brown and straightens it to reach her waist. Her thoughts run wild as she slips on a floral patterned dress and heel boots. She looks at her hourglass figure in the mirror and smiles.

"Mrs. Pompom Yeltsin. Good morning. It's your favourite daughter-in-law."

*
*

Things don't go as Pamela planned. When she enters the Yeltsin mansion, silence greets her. Security men lead her to the balcony, where refreshments are made available.

It takes Pompom twenty minutes to see her. Pamela grins as the old lady's head appears at the doorway.

"Hey, mum."

"We are on an affable basis?"

"Yes. Or at least I hope so."

"Hm." Granny Pom smirks. "That's so sweet. Return to your seat."

Pamela obeys. Her mother-in-law pours herself a glass of orange juice before sitting opposite her. They turn to the vegetation overlooking the mansion, wrapped in relaxation until Pamela says, "He's dead."

"Who?" Pompom turns to her.

"My husband."

There's a pause. Granny takes a sip and sets the glass down elegantly. Her gaze darts to the sky before she asks, "You killed Igor?"

Pamela nods.

"Hm," is her only response.

Silence resettles.

Pamela swallows hard. She expected her mother-in-law to cry and hail curses on her. Not this.

When their eyes meet, Pom holds her chin, leaning forward. "I'm amazed by your audacity to tell me this, child."

"Well, you have lost my respect," Pamela puffs, "Not only did you know he fucked kids, but you helped him hide some in Miami. I have all the documents with your signature -"

"Don't act righteous. What do you want?" Pom cuts her off.

A pause ensues.

"Pom, I want to be the CEO."

Instantly, the old lady stands. She gives Pamela the most despicable glare she can muster with her innermost grief.

Looking into the snake's eyes, Granny takes a deep breath and utters, "Build your own business. If that's all, goodbye."

*

*
*

*Charlie's P.O.V *

When I hear of his death, my heart pounds. I crumple Leo's shirt, stuttering, "Are yo-you sure?"

"Of course." He grabs both sides of my face. "It's over now. Really. He ain't coming back. You're safe."

"Bu-"

"It's over now." Leo reassures. I shut my eyes.

He ain't coming back. I flinch. He isn't coming back -

The kettle goes off, interrupting my trance. Leo heads to the kitchen while I remain on the couch, unsure how to react.

Should I be happy? Is it really over?

Leo returns with two mugs. Handing me one, he says, "Um, I think we should stay home tomorrow."

Should we? ...Maybe not.

"Let's just go on with our lives." I say, " Like you said, we're safe."

*

Unfortunately, the press has other plans for us. Paparazzi blocks the entrance to the modelling agency. Security leads me into a four-wheel as I hear clicks and comments like "How do you feel now your sugar daddy is dead?!" "Mr. Hunt, what would you like to say to the people sympathising with the Yeltsins?!" "Mr. Hunt..."

As the ride moves, the uproar from outside fades away. I lie in the back seat and pray for sanity. My phone rings before I sit up, puffing, "Hello?"

"Charlie, where are you?" Leo's tone is urgent.

I look out the window when he chimes, "Are you on the road?"

"Yes -"

"Let me speak to the driver."

I oblige. Thirty-seven minutes after Leo speaks to him, the car stops. A few photographers flash me as I am escorted into my own home.

Leo texts me to say he won't be home - there's a delay in the photoshoot for the magazine he works under, Highfit. I don't mind, but he should be here, safe.

Tomorrow comes for me to endure four hours of outfit fitting, after which I board a train in a face mask and orange-tinted glasses.

Speaking of the glasses, the TV presenter who gifted it to me calls. He assures me there will be no mention of the Yeltsins in our upcoming interview. I am thankful.

At home, I stay in bed, petting Takie while reading. At a point, I phone Mia to check up on her. She says everything is great, although I can tell she is annoyed. I hope people are not following her around. The thought alone of someone yelling abhorrent comments at her irates me.

"Dude, chill. I'm actually having a blast, cuz, like, I don't care what people think." Mia quirks. "He was my uncle, yes. But I hate him, yes. Everyone close to me knows that, so I'm ok."

"That's good," I reply.

After our conversation, I step outside to find two security men and a couple of papparazi guys fighting. I shut the door. I clutch my phone.

The dog runs in, barking. I trail its line of sight to the kitchen. I check. There's no one there.

"Takie, it's okay, boy." I exhale, ruffling the dog. It growls in another direction - the guest bedroom.

Still, no one.

"Takie, stop scaring me." I plop onto the couch. After three hours of nothing, my dread turns to rest.

A tap wakes me. I rub my eyes as the culprit sighs.

"Hey, why are you sleeping on the couch?"

"Leo?" I mumble.

He nods. I smile while my eyes shut on their own accord. Leo taps me again and points to his back. My sleepyhead lolls as he gives me a piggyback ride to bed.

"Leo..."

"Mm?" He tucks me in as I whisper, "Takie saw ghosts today."

"Which ghosts?" He freezes.

"Um, maybe -"

"No," Leo cuts me off. " Just go back to sleep. They'll go away eventually. "

He covers my eyes. I tickle his palm, and he chortles, "Hey, you better stop that and sleep, motherfucker!"

"Language!"

"Language!"

I scowl at him, so he chuckles. "I'll be back. Please, sleep."

*
*

Once he has ensured I'm in oblivion, Leo whistles for Takie and says, "What is it? Is someone in the house?"

The dog growls. Leo takes a bat in one hand and his phone in the other.

The house goes quiet. Leo lets go of the chain. Takie runs. The sound of its feet ends in the storage room. Leo enters and turns the light on, only for someone to almost run behind him.

Grabbing their collar instantly, Leo slams the intruder into a wall- a shrill yelp echoes. Leo swings the bat. The intruder dodges, though boxes drop on them. Wincing, Leo punches him in the face, stomach, and chest. The intruder crouches until another box hits Leo, enabling the former to strike back.

The intruder twists Leo's arm, so the bat falls. As my friend grunts in anguish, the intruder puts him in a headlock. Their feet find the floor, struggling over one another. The dog comes out of the blue, climbs onto the intruder, and gnaws at their leather overalls, but to no avail. The man won't let go. Leo's throat constricts. The man's mask removes, exposing hollow cheekbones and a pesky beard above his large biceps. Leo tries to get a better look, but the man keeps squeezing hard.

"Fucking die already," the man grunts. Finding skin, Takie bites the man's ankle. However, he doesn't relent. Leo makes suffocating sounds, but the man holds on tighter -

"I said die- AHH!"

- till I whack his head. Instantly, Leo swallows air.

Takie bites the man's hand before he can snatch the bat. Groaning, he turns to me, and I gasp.

"Ch-Charlie-" Leo coughs. I don't hear. My delicate fingers lift the bat and hit. I see nothing. Just hit.

"CHARLIE!" Leo screams twelve seconds later. I halt. The man spits out blood and stares at me in horror. Our eyes lock for what feels like forever. I think.

Charlie, he's not coming back.

Leo gets up and pulls me in his arms. My head pounds. I feel like nothing. Without breaking eye contact with the intruder, I let go of the bat and cry.

I can picture Igor shoving a gun in my mouth, forcing my legs open, calling me his property, tearing me apart. Staring. Laughing.

I can picture blood and milk and toffees.

But as Leo lets go and I hear sirens, he says, "Look at me. I ... I'm fine."

So I picture him being fine.