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They had their chance to help me and they failed. The police had deserted that young girl looking for answers herself. I was Cyprus now, that's who I was. I was part of the Rottera family, nothing would change that.

He could threaten me with time behind bars, he could take my signature off all the paperwork and use it to lock me up for fraud and tax evasion. It didn't matter, I still wouldn't speak ill of Nick and Birch.

Since I stepped foot in that house, the one thing that Nick had drilled into my head was that being part of their family meant standing on your own two feet if you had to. You take a bullet for those you love, this was my bullet.

Closing my eyes, I folded my arms under my head and laid there on the table. I didn't really care how long they kept me, I wasn't going to say shit.

I heard the door creak open and the sound of footsteps approach me from above. But I didn't get up, I just laid quietly, waiting for something. For what? Who the hell knows.

Maybe he would tell me I could go home now, maybe he would apologize for being a prick and send me on my way.

“Miss, I need you to sit up.”

“Why? I'm good right here.”

“No, I think you should sit up.” His voice was different, it was softer and less intimidating than before. “Come on, sit up.”

Is this part of his game? A Good cop, bad cop routine that he altered between.

Rolling up slowly, I peered at the detective with as little emotion as I could. I didn't want him to think he was getting to me, or that he was building some relationship with me he could use against my family.

“Better?”

Detective Jones sat down, running a hand through his thick blonde hair. His green eyes were dull, lost in thought. He stared at me, not saying a word, just looking at me like he had a million things running through his head and he didn't know where to begin.

“What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do you recognize this?” Placing a small purple book on the table, he rested his hand on top. “Have you ever seen it before?”

Tilting my head, I looked at the notebook. “No, I've never seen it before. What is it?”

“Are you sure?” Using the tips of his fingers, he turned it. “Just take a minute and think about it. Have you ever seen it before?”

There were small flowers lining the top and bottom trim, a thick leather strap held the front and back cover together. Doodles of stars and hearts were drawn in pen down the binding, and the name Fiona was scribbled in the bottom right corner.

“I've never seen this before. Where did you get it?”

“Well, Cyprus,” he said, stroking his jaw. “I think it's yours.” Pushing it forward, he nodded his head. “Go on, take a look.” Folding back the cover, he opened it. “Maybe you'll remember if you read it.”

Gripping the trim on either side, I pulled it in. I stared at the detective for a moment, trying to figure out what type of game this was. This book wasn't mine, it had nothing to do with me.

Why the hell does he want me to read it?

Touching the corner, I fiddled with the thin seam and dropped my eyes to the paper. Inside I felt horrible, like I was violating some little girl's deepest thoughts. This was her book, it was her feelings and wishes, her anger and sadness.

We had no right reading what was in there. My eyes kept popping around the page, afraid to truly see what this girl had put down.

“Read it, read what she wrote.”

“What does this have to do with me?” Snapping my eyes up, I glared at Jones, doing my best to tear him apart. “We don't have any right reading this.”

“I think we do, I think it's more important than you realize.”

“Where did you get it?”

“I don't think you'd believe me if I told you. Read it first, then we'll talk.”

Huffing under my breath, I flicked my eyes down and started reading. My heart began to break, it folded up and split in half, refusing to beat one more time.

There was a little girl begging for help. There was a child aching with pain and no one was listening but the pages of her private book.

Where is she now?