The past truly never dies

~ KAIA’S POV ~

A sharp wash of daylight pierced my skin, jolting me awake.

Huh? Morning?

I kicked the sheets off and stumbled out of bed, panic already crawling up my throat. I yanked my bedroom door open and bolted down the hall to Kai’s room.

Please… let this be a nightmare. Please let my baby still be in his bed.

I reached his door and shoved it open without thinking.

Silence. A silence so heavy it clawed at my chest. His bed is neatly arranged, untouched—exactly the way I left it last night. My heart slammed against my ribs as I dashed into the bathroom. Empty.

“No, no, no…” The words choked out of me as hot tears blurred my vision. They streamed down uncontrollably, blinding me. My knees trembled, buckling under the weight of terror as Rodriguez’s voice echoed in my skull:

“Go against my instructions and have your son’s dead body sent to you in a garbage can.”

A sob tore out of me instantly

“Please… please, I want out of this.”

I thought I’d buried my past. I thought moving away, starting over, would be enough—for Kai’s sake. But the past… it doesn’t stay buried. It crawls back, dragging everything with it.

My knees gave way completely causing me to collapse, falling hard to the floor, tears soaking into my dress as my body shook in pain.

They were right….the popular saying was right. The past never truly dies. I am proof of it.

But what choice did I ever have? What was I supposed to do when no one would hire me? When every job application ended with men trying to drag me into their beds?

Born into poverty, left orphaned at sixteen, Kiara and I had no one. No safety net. No future. Only survival.

So we stole.

We barely ate once a day. Bills stacked up. The only thing our parents left us was the old house we lived in. Selling it wasn’t an option as it was the only roof over our heads.

Kiara and I were twins, though not identical. Different in looks, but bound by the same hunger, the same desperation.

It all started one night when we were starving beyond words. We hadn’t eaten in nearly two days. Kiara slipped out and came back with fish and fresh vegetables. I stared at her, stunned. She told me her friend gave her the vegetables and that a kind woman had bought the fish for her from a supermarket.

On hearing it, I was overjoyed. I broke down in tears even praying for the woman.

That night, we cooked and ate until our bellies were full, which was for the first time in months since our parents’ death.

The next morning, Kiara broke down and admitted the truth. She had stolen it all.

My heart sank. I scolded her, I was disappointed, but as the days grew worse, as hunger clawed at us, I gave in too.

No one wanted to hire me. I wasn’t a college graduate, but I spoke fluent English and wrote well. Still, not even a housekeeper’s job was offered to me.

I tried working in a bar, but the manager made it clear that I would have to “please” him to keep the job.

Even Kiara wasn’t spared. A woman once tried to lure her into a brothel. We were only sixteen, though we looked nineteen. That didn’t matter. To the world, we were prey.

So we stole more. From markets, from supermarkets. Pretending to volunteer, arranging shelves, hiding food away.

It was ridiculous that these shop owners refused to hire help, yet happily let “volunteers” work for free. No food and no pay attached.

And I…no, we had no pity for them.

But now… now my son is paying for it.

From stealing, we learned to survive. We ate well, stored food. We became good at it….so good no one suspected a thing.

Two years later, I saw a billboard for a modeling competition. I applied. I had the looks…the figure, the clear skin despite our suffering. Let's say that's one trait I took from my mother that Kiara didn't have.

At the modelling competition, that’s when I met Luca, my ex. He supported me and Kiara, and gave us money sometimes. For a while, life felt bearable.

Until the final results came. Despite excelling at every stage, I wasn’t in the lead.

After the ceremony, I slipped into the restroom, only to overhear the manager and the crowned winner.

He promised her more wins if she kept satisfying him. She agreed, shamelessly. They laughed about how he erased my name from the list and wrote hers.

My blood boiled, but I had no proof. No phone. Nothing.

That day, something inside me snapped. My conscience. My emotions. I buried them. The wealthy became my enemies.

I began following the manager. Learned his habits. His evenings at hotels, cheating on his wife.

When the hotel held a mask party, I knew exactly what to do.

I dressed in black, masked my face, and drew him in like the fool he was. He led me to his room, lust dripping from every word.

While he showered, I laced his drink with a sedative. He gulped it down, then collapsed.

I didn’t waste time. I stripped the room of everything valuable. Cash only I took. I couldn't risk taking his jewellery as he might have a tracker in it.

That night, I walked away with more than twenty thousand dollars.

And I discovered my new calling.

Kiara was thrilled.

Together, we built new plastic faces, new IDs. We slipped into high-class parties, targeted rich perverts. We seduced, drugged, and stole. I never slept with any of them….I refused to cross that line.

We sold jewelry under false names and IDs. We thrived.

We sold our parents’ house, bought a better apartment, even went back to school. Degrees in hand, but still thieves at heart.

Until Luca betrayed me.

I caught him in bed with another girl. A rich one at that. He denied knowing me in front of her. That betrayal cut deeper than any knife.

After that, Kiara and I buried ourselves in more gigs. More faces. More lies.

Until the day everything changed.

I fell sick. And learned I was pregnant.

With Kai.

My hatred quieted. My emotions softened. I reflected and I chose to stop.

Kiara hated my decision. She begged me to keep going, but I had already made up my mind. I planned to move to New York. I begged her to come with me, but she refused.

So I left.

I tried calling her, I tried reaching out but she blocked me.

And then the news came. Kiara was involved in a plane crash.

I shattered. My heart broke in ways I can’t even describe. I blamed myself for leaving her. But I had Kai inside me, and I had to live for him.

Months later, I gave birth to him.

And now… he’s been taken from me too, because of the life I tried so hard to leave behind.

I pushed myself to my feet and staggered back to my room.

Vittorio. That’s the target’s name.

This isn’t about valuables anymore. This time, I have to poison him.

I opened my

laptop, connected to WiFi, and searched his name.

Vittorio Caruso.

A brief profile appeared. My breath caught mid air.

He’s a…..