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“Okay, but if we don’t do something, we’re going to go insane and start feeding the birds with Dad,” my sister points out.

Raphael relaxes a bit and smiles at her. “I promise I’ll find a way to take you out to dinner. Even if I have to rent out the entire restaurant to keep you safe.”

My mom smiles sweetly at him. “That’s not necessary, Raphael. You’ve already done more than enough for us. You don’t have to do anything. We’ll be just fine in this mansion with a swimming pool and theatre room.” She ends her sentence with a scolding glance toward my sister.

“It’s not a problem. If you’re happy, Silver’s happy, and I can’t ask for anything more in life.” He kisses me on the temple, and I melt a little in his arms.

“Those birds are savage!” My father’s voice thunders from behind us, walking into the room.

“You’ve been feeding them since this morning, they’re probably high on seeds or something,” my sister points out.

Another booming voice comes from the direction of the front door. “They’ll come back every morning and bring their friends. They’re smart and know where to find easy food.”

We all turn around and see the imposing figure of Raphael’s father. Well, this morning is becoming more interesting by the minute.

“What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you.” Raphael frowns and I can’t tell what he’s feeling. He seems tense, but he also looks taller in front of him. More confident, almost. I’m not sure, but I’m guessing something happened since the last time I saw the man.

“I have news,” he says simply, sitting on the couch in the living room.

I motion to my family to follow us into the living space where we find places to sit. We’re all quite puzzled by the turns of the events, and I’m even more suspicious because Raphael’s father seems to be the only one who knows what is going on.

“You’re free to live your lives without anyone threatening you.” He drops the bomb with such casual nonchalance that no one says a word.

“What does that mean? I don’t understand,” I blurt out when I feel Raphael relax next to me.

His father softens his gaze when he looks at me. It’s the first time I’ve received that look from him, and somehow it’s more nerve-wracking than his scowl.

“You’ll be getting a phone call from the agent following your case,” he explains. “He’ll tell you that, unfortunately, The Hangman of New Jersey had a terrible peanut allergic reaction and died in his cell a few hours ago. Someone screwed up on his meal and they couldn’t reach his solitary confinement cell in time to save him.”

We let out a collective sigh. “Are you serious?” My voice trembles and my heart hammers in my chest.

He nods.

“What about the others following her?” Raphael asks.

“Do you really want to know?” His father nails him to the couch with a look and Raphael closes his mouth.

“Youkilledhim?” My father speaks for the first time and a mixture of disbelief and discomfort covers his face.

“Do I look like a peanut to you? I don’t kill people. I just deliver the news,” he answers with a firmness that shuts my father up.

I don’t know what to feel. I’m relieved because this nightmare is finally over. For good this time. But I also feel guilty that a man is dead because of me. It doesn’t matter that he was a bad man.

“He deserved it.” My mom’s quivering voice breaks the silence. “He killed a fifteen-year-old boy in cold blood. Ripped him from his family, from his mother. He made our life a living hell for eight years. He ripped our daughter from our family, from me. He deserved everything that came to him. He ruined lives, he didn’t deserve to have one.”

Her words are so full of bottled-up pain that nobody says a word to her. I grip her hand while my father puts an arm around her shoulder. My guilt subsides a bit until it becomes a background noise in my heart. She is my mother. She suffered because of him; he shouldn’t be more important than her.

“Does that mean that we can live our lives like normal people now, seeing each other like a real family?” my sister asks excitedly.

“I guess that’s what we can do now.” I can hear the relief in my voice.

“I can’t believe this is real. I just can’t wrap my mind around it,” my mom murmurs.

I turn toward Raphael, who’s been particularly quiet during this conversation. He’s staring at his father with an unreadable expression.

“Are you okay?” I whisper to him.

He turns around and smiles. A genuine one, full of many unspoken feelings. “I’m fine.”