8. Lia
Chapter 8
Lia
I sit on the chair nestled in the corner of my father’s home—at least, the man who raised me.
Sunlight seeps through the blinds, filling the room with a soft, warm glow and creating intricate patterns on the floor. And it should soothe me, but nothing stops me from anxiously tapping my fingers on my thighs; the sound echoing through the quiet room as I impatiently wait for him to wake.
Finally, he turns on his side and then, like he feels my presence, his eyes flutter open and land on me. His tired eyes widen.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, wearily.
“Waiting for you to reveal who the hell you truly are,” I reply, as betrayal simmers within me.
Not only from him. I feel deceived by everyone.
My life is a tangled web of half-truths and hidden identities.
“I’m your father,” he responds, his voice tinged with exhaustion as he pushes himself into a sitting position on the bed.
I shake my head, my eyes locked on his, searching for the answers I desperately need. “No, that’s not what I mean. Who are you really? Why do you harbor such a vehement hatred for the Mafia? I’ve been told you were a mercenary who fell in love with my mother, but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”
He remains silent for a moment, his gaze searching my face while he locks his thoughts behind a guarded expression.
Then he turns the question back to me. I hate how his voice is so composed. “Who am I, Lia?” he asks, challenging me.
My heart pounds in my chest as the answer lingers on the tip of my tongue. Another piece of the puzzle slowly falling into place.
The silence between us speaks volumes. He thinks I don’t know, but I see it in his eyes, in the way he carries himself, in the secrets he guards so fiercely.
“You are...” I swallow as the word, “Mafia,” releases and the realization of who my dad is completes one gigantic puzzle.
His silence confirms it to me. The unspoken truth is so obvious in his eyes.
The room is suffocating, the air thick with tension as we both sit there, enveloped in a heavy silence before I speak again.
“Who are you?” I demand. Needing answers for the past that refused to stay buried. And the weight of who we really are hanging over us.
“Keep your voice down. Milly is here.”
“Why is she here?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “She was upset and wanted to get away. Maybe if you speak to her.”
“I will if you tell me who you are.”
Dad’s voice barely rises above a whisper as he responds, “I can’t tell you.”
“Then I’ll tell you.” My voice rising with every word.
“No,” he pleads, but I ignore him. I’m too driven by the need to uncover the truth that’s been hidden for far too long to pretend any longer.
“My mother told me who you are,” I say, swallowing back a lump in my throat, remembering the video and her words.
“What?” he grunts just before his head drops back and he stares at the ceiling.
I smile as I remember her words. Only three people know about me. Antonio, Dominic, and Rico.
“You are Fredrico Rossi. A man who is supposed to be dead.”
He sighs, shaking his head slightly before he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.
“Talk to me. I need to know.”
“I hated my father,” he begins, his gaze drifting upwards to the ceiling as he delves into painful memories. “He killed my mother when we were on vacation in Australia when I was ten years old. She was scuba diving. But I know he did it because overheard him telling her over and over what a failure she was to him only giving him one child.”
"I'm sorry for your loss, but I need—"
"I know. Ask me what you need."
“When did you really meet her my mother?”
“I was good friends with her. I helped cover up her secret relationship with Antonio. She couldn’t be with him. He was a second son.” His voice is heavy with sorrow.
I let out a sigh as I try to make sense of the complex maze of lies and forbidden romance.
“Did Antonio kill his own brother?” I ask, seeking confirmation. “So he could become a first son and have her?”
Dad nods solemnly. “But it’s not as simple as that with the Mafia.”
“Then tell me,” I push.
“When she found out she was pregnant, so did my father and Antonio's brother, Francesco Conti.” He sighs. “My father overheard us talking. The next thing I knew, she had to abort you, go through with an initiation with the five leaders, or he would put a hit on her head.”
Abort me?
Tears well in my eyes as I listen to my father’s heartbreaking revelation. “They’re Catholics.”
Dad sighs and shakes his head. “When it suits them.”
The realization hits me like a tidal wave, and my heart aches for the pain my mother must have endured. “And you and Antonio helped her escape from Italy?” I inquire, already aware of the answer.
“And Dominic,” he confirms.
“Dominic?” I question, my curiosity piqued.
“Dominic wanted her alive. His first son was promised to the first daughter of Aurora Moretti. It's an honor for your child to be chosen for a Moretti. Not only that, he knew she was pregnant with Antonio’s child,” he explains. “It made you powerful, and the reason some leaders wanted you dead.”
I really was promised to Dante. And they planned to get my mother out of Italy, away from the clutches of danger and vendettas.
“But my father decided he wanted her, but he was already married.”
I take a moment to process the gravity of his words. “He killed his wife to marry my mother?”
“But I thought he wanted her dead,” I interject, recalling the stories and the threats that have haunted me since I found out about my past.
“What you haven’t learned is that your mother’s family renounced everything to do with the Syndicate and that was accepted until rumors swirled about her being pregnant, and some wanted her and you dead to stop the Moretti bloodline once and for all.”
“And your father?”
Dad shakes his head. “My father wanted you aborted and then he was going to be the one who continued the Moretti bloodline. But Eduardo’s father wanted her dead, and now Eduardo believes his father was right. He prefers to keep the Moretti family at arm’s length.”
“And Leonardo?” I ask, my voice trembling as I think of the man I killed.
“That man raised sons to believe women were beneath them. He and Eduardo wanted to eliminate the Moretti bloodline,” he reveals, exposing the dark motivations that drove them.
“And you... you are Fredrico Rossi?” I wait for him to confirm it, already knowing the truth but needing confirmation.
“Somebody died in that car crash,” he replies defiantly.
“But not Fredrico Rossi.” I find myself answering for him, realizing that this man, my father, was supposed to hate the Mafia, yet he himself had engaged in callous acts. “Per the dictates of syndicate law, you are now instated as the leader of the Rossi family.”
“I never wanted it then or now.”
I nod. “Can I ask you why you didn't stop my mother from going back to Italy?” With each word I utter, a tinge of sorrow seeps through my voice. “You kept her safe for four years. Why then?”
“What I told you before was true. They kept killing her family. She wanted it to end.” He sighs. "That's what she told me."
"She lied to you?" I ask.
He nods.
“You never wanted her to leave?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I loved her. Never loved anyone like I loved her.” He blinks away the tears lacing his eyes. “After I made a deal with Aurora to fake my death, and for us to run away together, I never expected to fall in love with her. I never expected to have children with her,” he confesses with watery eyes. “I never wanted her to leave me ... to leave us. But she believed it was the only way. She told me she was going to beg for the murders to stop and renounce her family’s involvement in the Mafia.”
Tears stream down my cheeks as I comprehend the depth of their love and the tragic circumstances that tore them apart. “You thought she was coming back,” I whisper.
He nods, the pain etched on his face mirroring my own. “She only left me a letter, a letter I was only supposed to open if she hadn’t returned after five days.”
“So you are the Rossi heir, and Milly Bailey, or Amelie Rossi, is the next Rossi heir,” I state, my mind racing to piece together the intricate puzzle of our identities and legacies.
“No, please, don’t tell her,” he pleads, his voice filled with desperation. “My name is Mac Bailey. I'm not going back to that world. You killed my father, and now my nephew has taken his place.”
I stand there, feeling adrift, my world crumbling around me. “It was your idea for me to kill Giuseppe Rossi first. You wanted your child to carry out your vendetta,” I accuse, the weight of all these deaths and the tangled history suffocating me. “You pushed me to kill Milly and Amara’s grandfather.”
“Because he is the reason that your mother is dead. My mother too. What do you not understand about what I’ve told you?” he yells, his voice coated in anger. “He wanted you dead!”
Surrounded by the shattering truth, I realize that the revelation is far more complex than I could have ever imagined. “I need to get away from here,” I state.
“Don’t go anywhere Lia. We need to talk.”
There’s a flutter in my stomach. I hold my hand over it and say, “I’ve heard enough for now. I'm going to my room.”
I walk from his room to Milly's, popping my head inside and whispers, "You awake, Milly?"
"Yeah." There's a small sob in her voice.
"What's happened to you?" I ask, worried she overheard the discussion with our father. "Why are you here?"
"I needed to get away."
I step into her room, close the door behind me, and sit next to her on the bed.
"Romeo dumped me, and I can't face him."
I'm glad, but I keep that opinion to myself. "I need to get away for a few days. I was going to ride up to Noosa. Come with me," I say.
She turns to me and says. "Do you want to go to Dominic's yacht? It's moored in the Whitsundays."