My mother used to tell me that in a city like Starlight, a rainy day could either force people to show their true colors or signal that something bad was about to happen. So naturally, when droplets started smearing against the window during the drive home, I couldn’t help but slump into my seat. After all those meetings, the last thing I needed was a rainy day.

As the car pulled up to the manor, I saw Bill, our head of security, waiting for me with an umbrella in his hand. Thank goodness, I cannot get this hair wet, or it’ll get frizzy.

When I stepped out of the car, I slung my satchel over my shoulder and reached out to Bill with a smile. “Thanks, Bill, you’re heaven-sent.”

Bill laughs. “Just doing my job, Ms. Sinclair.” He tells me, ever the humble one. He starts to lead me inside, safe from the rain.

“Alright, so,” I fluffed up my hair, still worried about the frizz. “Give me some of the home report. How was everything? Did Papá drop by?”

Bill laughed a little. I can tell he isn’t too keen on my father, but I have to know. “Yes, the Mayor came by today, but it was a quick visit. Other than that, it’s been a peaceful day, ma’am. There is one-“

“Sorry, uh, but do you mind if we pick this up later?” I stepped out in front of Bill, about to dart for the stairs. “I really want to get these work clothes off, and I’ve been dying to use the bathroom the whole evening.”

“Of course, miss,” He smiled again. “I’ll await you in the dining room.”

“Awesome, see you in a bit, Bill.” I gave one last smile before making my way upstairs. I’m not sure what it was, but he seemed like he had something important to tell me… oh well, I’m sure it can wait until after I shower.

With the sun having set, my room was nearly too dark to see into, had it not been for the faint moonlight shining through the blinds. I let out a sigh, tossing my satchel onto my bed as I go to turn on a lamp, the illumination bringing back a cozy warmth to my room.

“Alright! Time to-” I let in a sharp inhale as I turn to the sofa in the corner of my room and saw him, trying not to scream. “Jesus Christ, Rafa!” I hold onto my chest, shaking my head at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What?” He stood up from the seat, stuffing his red-tinted sunglasses into a pocket, and opened his arms. Was he expecting a hug or something? “I can’t come visit my little sister?”

He’s got to be kidding. In fact, “You’ve got to be kidding.” My eyebrows furrowed, but for whatever reason, he didn’t seem to get my point. “Rafael, I haven’t seen you in five years. How did you even get in here?”

“Bill let me in… obviously. I told him I was here to see you.” He smiled at me, as if that was going to lighten the mood. “So, how have you been?”

I let out probably the heaviest sigh known to man. “I… I don’t want to do this with you, Rafa. Just go.”

His demeanor changed; I can feel it. The shift thickens the air between us. “Look, Rosa, I know that it was tough when I left, especially on you. But I wouldn’t have been able to do what I needed to if I hadn’t gotten out from the same roof as him.”

“Right, and I’m guessing starting that Silver Wolf gang was what you needed to do?” I couldn’t look at him; I could already feel the anger burning up my cheeks.

“I’m guessing that means you’ve seen the news.” He sighed. “My… group is more than just some gang, we’re actually making a positive change over in Ever Crest and-“

“The media doesn’t seem to think you’re making a positive change,” I say, tossing my phone under a pillow and away from earshot. “Partly because Papá owns the media with his very real mafia that makes your ‘gang’ look like a couple of rebellious teenagers.”

He clenched his jaw, probably biting his tongue like he used to do. “Yeah, well, these things are a lot more complicated than the media make them out to be, Rosa, you know that.”

“But do I, Rafa?” I snapped at him, some of my hair smacking the side of my face. Only a little embarrassing. “You and papá never let me know what you two got up to, and whenever I asked, it was always ‘handling some business.’ And it only got worse when you ran off to start your gang.”

He sighed. “I know… and I’m sorry.” He reached out and put a hand on my shoulder. Not as comforting as he thought. “But Marcello started all this when he had Mamma assassinated.”

I smacked his hand off my shoulder and poked his chest. “You don’t know that! You don’t have proof that Papá did that!”

“Yes! I do!” He was starting to get upset; I clearly hit a nerve. “I have enough proof to know that he was the one who called the hit!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Then, if Papá is as guilty as you say he is of killing Mamma, why haven’t you done something? Told the police? The Governor? Rallied the people against him?”

He frowned, sitting down on the edge of my bed. “It’s not that easy, Rosa. I have to be patient before taking any action, or else it’ll backfire. Onc-”

“More waiting, great! Maybe it’ll be another five years, and I’ll be the head of the mafia by then.” I regretted it almost as soon as I said it, but I couldn’t let him know that.

“What? You-” He looked up at me in shock, as I expected. “You don’t mean that.”

“Maybe I do.” I responded with a shrug. “But I know that I’m done waiting for you to be here for me, to actually be my brother. I’ve been done.”

The silence that followed was deafening. My nose felt tingly, and my throat tightened. I knew I had to stand my ground on what I said, but he was making this so… awkward.

“You should go.” I finally managed to blurt something out.

His eyebrows furrowed, but I couldn’t tell if it was out of confusion or anger. “What?”

“I told you I didn’t want to do this with you. We did it anyway, and this was the result. So, you should go.” I frowned and turned away from him. If I cried now, everything I said would go down the drain. “I don’t want to get Bill involved, but… I will.”

More silence. “Right, then I’ll go.” He said, a soft shifting in the mattress releasing as he got up.

I looked over my shoulder at him. He had gotten up, but he hadn’t left. That’s when I saw him approaching my nightstand and picking up my photo frame of mom. It was from my eighteenth birthday, one of my favorite photos with her, and also the day before everything went downhill.

He frowned. “See you later, Mamma.” He blew a kiss to the photo before putting it back down and heading to the door. “I’m sorry, Rosa.” And then he left.

I couldn’t bring myself to move. My mind and body were at odds with each other; a part of me wanted to run after him, but the other part of me knew I couldn’t. Not anymore.

Finally, I let out a sigh, speaking under my breath, “I really hate the rain.”