Chapter 73

Stella

All I can hear is the clicking of my keyboard and the rustling of papers. I slowly work through the last of the patient files for the project I am working on for Adrian, manually inputting the last stack of files throughout the early hours of the morning.

As soon as I set the last file to the side, I let out a sigh of relief and fall back into my pillows. My hands and back ache from having worked so diligently the past couple of hours. My back’s aching muscles slowly relax once my back hits the bed, a huff of air leaving my lips.

I wait for a couple minutes, closing my eyes and taking the time to have my body calm down rather than scream at me for overdoing it again. Once the aching feeling is somewhat gone, I sit up and grab my laptop, pulling it onto my lap.

I navigate my way around my company’s website. The messaging board is just a click away and I, very hesitantly, press on Adrian’s name. I stare at our previous messages and bite my lip.

Adrian is so passionate about the project. He speaks with such fervor it is truly admirable. I have to remind myself that I hate him to push past the positive feelings of appreciation towards his dedication for the project.

Tracer: All of the files have been inputted. Will start on the next security phase soon. Will be in contact if I need anything.

As soon as I press the send button, I close out of the messaging board and move onto the next project for Sebastian’s friend, Dante, who runs a website that connects dealers with buyers for many products.

I do not need to ask if the website has connections to our family or other families within the mafia, I already know the answer is yes. It is why Dante is paying me under the table instead of it being an official job.

The security of his website has been compromised one too many times for comfort, at least that is what he tells me. Dante has requested that I build him an impenetrable firewall that will keep out any hackers or government officials who wish to have a close look at his records and the files of the customers that use the websites.

I decided to go a step further and add a coding system to the website that allows his people to remain completely anonymous, automatically masking their IP addresses and making sure that they are a speck in the wind once they leave the website. They all be untraceable.

As I work in the silence of my room, always preferring it over listing to music or having background noise because I get distracted way too easily, the quiet dings of someone messing me through the website’s board catches my attention.

I do not even need to look and see who it is. I already know that Adrian is the one messaging me, probably asking me to prioritize his project over all of the others.

This may be a tad bit petty on my part, but I am currently choosing to ignore whatever it is that he has to say. I simply do not want or need to see what it is. I just finished the previous part of the project, he does not need me to immediately start something new for him.

Besides, he should know that I have other projects and jobs to attend to. The entirety of my focus cannot solely be focused on him. It is not fair to me nor is it fair to any of my other clients.

My eyes flicker to the corner of the screen. I stare at Adrian’s name, my eyes barely even looking at the message he sent before it disappears.

I continue to type at a furious pace, my fingers dancing across the keyboard with ease all thanks to my muscle memory, but they begin to slow down as my mind goes back and lingers on Adrian.

My heart twists and turns inside of my chest. I still feel awful about how he left me hanging the other night, how he abandoned me in a place where I was all alone and had nobody to lean on.

I let out a huff of air and make my way back towards the messaging board, glaring at the screen as I click on Adrian and I’s individual chat bubble.

Adrian: Thank you for all of your hard work. I appreciate it.

Adrian: Would you be willing to start the next phase as soon as possible?

Adrian: My shareholders are eager to see what you have come up with.

Adrian: Hello? Are you there? You usually answer me pretty quickly.

Adrian: I’m sorry if I am being too pushy. I am just very excited to get started on the next part.

I groan at his messages. What happened to the nonchalant Adrian that I told him to be? He needs to back off before I quit the job right here and now.

Tracer: I have other jobs to attend to. I will get back to you as soon as I can, okay?

I press the send button and instantly move to mute his message notifications. I click out of the messaging board and go back to the firewall that I am currently building for Dante from within the new website he sent me.

The green numbers flash across the screen as I begin to type. I’m thankful for the silence of the room.

There are no notification dings or alarm sounds to distract me. It’s peaceful.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

I let out a frustrated groan and slam my laptop screen shut. My phone rings on the bed beside me, the endless dings only making me feel more and more annoyed. I turn on my phone and glare at the screen.

Ex-Mother: Clara has fallen ill again. We may need you to come in.

Ex-Mother: I don’t care what you think or feel about her. We will need your blood just in case she needs it.

Ex-Mother: Be selfless or once and think of your poor, dying sister!

Ex-Mother: Be ready for our call. We are going to need you.

I roll my eyes at the messages and delete her number, not wanting to even give in to Clara’s antics because, let’s face it, this is exactly what it is.

Clara got sad that she is no longer getting attention so she has to fake an illness in order to gain more sympathy for her so called plight. She’s always been jealous of those who are in the spotlight when she is forced into the darkness. This is just her way of getting the attention back onto her.

I bite my lip and roll it back and forth between my teeth. I know that this illness is fake, but does everyone else?

I pick up my phone and mute my messages, not wanting to hear from my foster mother, and find my brother’s, Matteo, number. I press his name and bring the phone to my ear.

“Stella? Is everything okay?” His concern immediately comes through.

“Yes, I’m okay! I was wondering if you could be the best big bother ever and do me a favor…”