Chapter 3

**In an Expense of Time**

(Hanna’s POV)

The transformation within the Banks family was profound, a seismic shift that left a gaping void in their wake. Once vibrant, they faded into obscurity with astonishing speed, their presence vanishing as if they had never existed at all.

Grief-stricken, my grandparents bore the unbearable weight of sorrow for their son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren.

The tragedy that befell our family felt like a dark cloud that would never lift. Officially, the world labeled their untimely demise as the result of "reckless driving," a tragic incident that, while unfortunate, was deemed just another unpredictable thread in the fabric of life.

Television screens and newspaper pages echoed with relentless coverage of "road safety precautions."

News broadcasters and journalists tirelessly reminded us of the importance of adhering to proper road signs and regulations, emphasizing the potential dangers that awaited those who disregarded them.

Yet, as much as the community mourned the Banks family, life trudged on for everyone else.

Twenty-four years later, the fates of the survivors remained shrouded in mystery. In a different time and place, I, Samantha Banks—the only daughter of the late Engr. Joe—was alive but had undergone a complete transformation.

I now lived under the name Hanna, a new identity shaped by the whims of life.

Life had tossed me around mercilessly, like a pendulum swinging wildly. I had no choice but to surrender to its unpredictable twists and turns, adapting to whatever circumstances unfolded before me.

In Chicago, the grey sky had persisted for over a week. The flatness of the landscape made it feel less claustrophobic; the sky seemed to stretch on forever. As Scott would often say, the clouds weren’t the problem. It was when the skies cleared, and the heat dissipated, that the biting wind from frozen Lake Michigan struck, chilling anyone brave enough to venture outside.

In the heart of Illinois lay a vibrant neighborhood known as Little Italy. The streets were lined with charming, colorful buildings that exuded a sense of history and community.

The aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering tomato sauce wafted through the air, enticing passersby with the promise of delicious Italian cuisine. Lively conversations and laughter filled the streets as families and friends gathered at outdoor cafés, enjoying their meals al fresco.

Amidst this lively atmosphere, I found myself in a spacious room. The walls were adorned with artwork depicting scenes of Italy, transporting me to a different time and place.

Sunlight streamed through large windows, casting a warm glow on the carefully arranged furniture. The room was filled with comfortable seating, inviting me to relax and immerse myself in the tranquility of my surroundings—a peaceful haven amidst the hustle and bustle of Little Italy, offering a moment of respite and reflection.

“Mmm…!” I moaned as I woke up on a chilly morning, my body wrapped in warm fur clothing.

I was alone in the room of my wealthy boyfriend, Jim Russo, a mafia boss who had already left early for the day. His absence granted me a fleeting sense of liberty—a rare moment where I could move about freely.

For a minute, I sat still, contemplating my life. I tried to summon happiness, but it eluded me. Just days ago, I had been communicating with an unknown number, a mysterious figure claiming to hold a significant secret that I needed to know.

Jim's travels made this the perfect opportunity for me to meet this person.

I sighed; every passing minute felt like a threat to my existence, a reminder of the perilous life I led, trapped in the clutches of a ruthless mafia.

Suddenly, my phone chimed with a message from the unknown number. With a renewed sense of purpose, I made my way to the bathroom, determined to find some clarity amidst the chaos.

Surviving each day had become a perilous endeavor, overshadowed by the constant looming danger. Just as I began to gather my thoughts, a wave of panic washed over me. Jim, the man I believed to be away on a business trip to Haiti, made an unannounced return to the house.

His heavy footsteps ascended the stairs, a mix of terror and seething anger radiating from him like a storm about to break. His most trusted aide trailed closely behind, while several others remained stationed outside, on high alert for any potential upheaval.

The sound of Jim's footsteps sent shivers down my spine, goosebumps prickling my skin as I braced myself for the impending storm.

Despite the fear coursing through me, I attempted to maintain my composure. Yet, an underlying sense of unease permeated the room.

Rising from the luxurious king-size bed, I approached the elegant Firenze dressing table, my movements betraying the air of someone concealing a secret. I couldn't shake the feeling that Jim had discovered something—an unsettling thought that gnawed at my insides.

Jim forcefully pushed the door open, but it stopped just before hitting the wall, thanks to its motion control feature.

The moment I saw his face, a surge of fear gripped me, and I instinctively adjusted my position. His aide remained outside as the door locked behind us, leaving us alone in the room.

My apprehension grew as Jim stared at me with intense animosity, his silence heavy with hostility.

Filled with dread, I mustered the courage to speak, my voice trembling, “Did something happen, honey? Why are you—” Before I could finish, Jim cut me off, his anger palpable.

“Unless you wanted something to happen,” he accused, his tone venomous.

My expression attempted to deny his accusation, but Jim dismissed my protest. “Oh, you despicable creature. Don’t try to deceive me.”

Panic seized me as he advanced closer, and I desperately searched for a way to protect myself.

The open window caught my attention, but I hesitated. Would it offer any escape? The mansion was heavily guarded, making it a risky option.

“Stay right where you are, Hanna,” Jim commanded, his voice filled with authority.

As he approached, he abruptly grabbed me in a tight chokehold. I struggled to breathe, gasping for air, my nails scratching at his hands in a desperate attempt to free myself. A mixture of spite and regret filled his eyes, and he let out a groan.

“Who are you really, Hanna? I gave you everything, and this is how you repay me…” His voice trailed off as he began to chuckle, a crazed sound echoing through the room.

I continued to struggle, my breath still labored, attempting to say something but unable to find the words.

Amidst his maniacal laughter, Jim’s voice broke, “You may have the appearance of perfection, but inside beats a shattered heart that cannot be repaired,” he uttered, pointing toward my chest.

I leaned helplessly on the table, my heart heavy with shock, my eyes sparkling with fear.

“Let me see your phone,” Jim commanded. He scrutinized it, disbelief washing over him as he checked for calls and messages—then, boom—he saw it.

Fury ignited in his gaze as he stared at me, his face contorting with disappointment, like a man with a broken heart.

He crammed his fist, “Ahh!” he groaned, his voice pained.

With a forceful swing, he hit and shattered the ornate mirror, a piece worth a fortune, but in his rage, he didn’t care.

“Your innocent eyes won't fool me now. Fucking rat.”

Shortly after that, tears welled up in my eyes, and I fell to my knees, the weight of my hidden life crashing down around me like a tidal wave.

“I can explain…” I beckoned shakily, my voice barely above a whisper.

The delicate balance I had fought so hard to maintain was crumbling, and the truth I had desperately tried to keep buried was now threatening to consume me whole.

Each breath felt heavier, each heartbeat a reminder of the lies I had woven to survive.

The walls of my carefully constructed facade began to close in, and I felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in a way I had never anticipated.